#lip all curled and he's so happy while making himself lunch

[tbaluver]

New Years Kisses- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader summary: spend the night of new years eve with your lover a/n: hihi lovelies! i apologize if this does nawt make sense and if it's cheesy af..i wanted to make something for the end of the year and end the year with something romantical (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ happy new years to everyone ! hoping this year is filled with more happiness and luv ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡

divider creds, @/ strangergraphics any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Neither of you wanted to be in the crowded city where people rush to find the best spot for the fireworks. The noise and the chaos of the crowd did not feel like the right place to end the year together. Instead, you both seek refuge in the park where luckily not a lot of people had the same idea. 

Xavier helps you spread the picnic blanket across the soft grass before you settle down beside each other. He'd drape an extra blanket over the two of you as you nestle closer into him while you both wait together as the minutes pass by slowly.

While you wait, he'd entertain you with his evol. Tiny orbs of light flickered in the air as if they were fireflies floating around the two of you.

As time passed, the distant sound of fireworks began to stir in the air. One by one different variations of colors and shapes fill the sky, the fireflies around you both disappearing under the vibrant lights above you.

Clicking your phone open to find out just one more minute to new years, another year with your lover. You rest your forehead against his until the seconds strike to midnight. His lips finally meeting yours softly, the warmth of your lips enveloping his.

May our days ahead be as bright and beautiful as this moment with you.

Zayne:

Zayne has never been the type to go to parties. He often rejects his colleagues' invitations without hesitation and with some kind of excuse. But things had changed ever since you came into his life, for the better of course. Ever since you two started dating, he’d start showing up to gatherings to his colleagues' surprise.

They had never seen him smile so often whenever you dropped by to bring him lunch or to simply just have a chat with him or how he would actually go home on time just to be with you. They were even more surprised to see him attend the New Year’s party they hosted but they couldn’t hide their happiness for both of you to be there.

At the snack bar, Zayne chats with Greyson, nibbling on macarons while Greyson follows your warning and makes sure that he doesn’t dare sip any sweet alcoholic drink. You were across the room, chatting with Yvonne and with some of the other nurses but his eyes kept flicking over to you as you talked. Your gaze met, a small smile curled up at the corner of his lips as you excuse yourself from the conversation to approach him. Greyson takes the sign, excuses himself and leaves you two alone.

“Would you like to come outside?” At first you wondered if he wasn’t feeling well but there was something in his eyes that made you think something else.

The venue was large and the garden outside was stunning. It reminded you of the garden he plans to have with you once he has the time to nurture it. “We’ll miss the fireworks Zayne,” you pouted, turning around to look back at the crowd disappearing behind you as you both wandered deeper into the garden.

3 2 1 happy new year! the countdown of the crowd echoes far behind you two.

He softly chuckles, making sure to stop at the spot where your favorite flowers bloomed. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his gaze locked with yours as he gently cups your cheek. He leans down, capturing your soft lips with his as the fireworks pops in the background.

May our love continue to grow for all the years to come

Rafayel:

New Year's Eve had become a bore all thanks to Thomas, who ruined both of your plans by setting up Rafayel for an event that was known to be one of the biggest one of the year. It was filled with celebrities, critics, and most importantly buyers. Neither of you wanted to be there. Endless parade of people continue to talk to him about his latest artwork or ask him about his future plans. It was all too much. He just wanted to be with you.

You spent the whole night separated as the crowd pulled him away again and again. But when Rafayel finally manages to escape from the recent group, he grabs your hand and you both slip away from the event, laughing as you run down the street. 

Rafayel leads the way, your hand firmly in his, the scent of the beach drifting you both with each step. His tie hung loosely around his neck and a few of his buttons were undone. The cool night air brushed against your skin as laughter bubbles between the two of you.

As you reach a secluded part of the beach, far away from the noise and chaos, Rafayel turns to you, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He lifts you off the ground effortlessly, spinning you around, your foreheads touching.

He leans in closer, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. His lips brushed against yours softly, “One for the past,” he murmurs. Before you can react, he leans back in again, fireworks exploding in the distance. “And one for the present,” he whispers against your lips.

For all the years we have ahead, may they be as sweet as tonight.

Sylus:

The N109 zone was apparently coming down with hard fog so no fireworks can be seen during the night. Luckily Sylus had no plans during the new years but however he is not being caught down in the city in Linkon with that crowd, making him clutch his pearls.

With just an easy pick of the lock using his evol, you two were found in one of the highest buildings to have the best view of the fireworks, just the two of you alone. You two draw small figures in the snow until some fireworks exploded early.

Little did you know he had some shapes of fireworks planned out for you. One a crow and one a dove that symbolized you two both and he couldn’t help but softly chuckly seeing your awe expression as the bright colors reflect in your eyes.

“it’s so pretty sy!”

“it sure is.” he says not leaving his eyes on you.

As the voices below began to countdown the final seconds to midnight, the air between you two thickened with anticipation. Without a word you leaned in closer, your faces drawing together. The final seconds to the new year ticked away as Sylus’s lips meet yours, his hand sliding to the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

To an eternity of happiness with you

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 20 / epilogue)

masterlist

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Black trees against a yellow sky at evening time. 

It’s late when you finally reach home. Dark enough to almost be night—a full day longer to return than it took to leave, but then you hadn’t ridden as hard coming back, too sore and sleep-deprived to manage the same pace. Even the meager sleep you got on the road was hardly sufficient.

Then the shape of your house appears on the horizon and you nearly break down in tears. The sight of it fills you with such relief that you nearly lose your balance, your head slumping forward. Too long. Days that felt like weeks, your body and mind weary from the long trek home. Against the gold of the horizon light, it appears like a boat arriving at port. 

You throw yourself off your horse and to the ground before John has even had a chance himself to dismount and come help you down. He stomps over when your foot nearly catches in the stirrup, nostrils flared and mustache twitching with his scowl. 

“Don’t go breaking your leg before I’ve even gotten you home,” he growls when he reaches you, fitting his hand around the nape of your neck and giving it a squeeze. You’d shiver, but your body is too exhausted for your libido to manage more than a half-hearted twitch. Instead you nod, head bobbing like a baby doll. 

John takes the horses to the stables while you clamber up the stairs on wobbly legs, headed straight for your bedroom, passing out the second your head touches the pillow. Your growling stomach will have to be addressed in the morning.

You aren’t conscious for when John comes up to join you, but you swear even in sleep you can sense his presence in the room. Certainly when he curls himself around you, the wall of warmth at your back briefly making your eyes flicker open before sleep claims you again and they slide shut. 

In the morning, you eat a big breakfast before letting John rub a liniment onto your inner thighs and bandage the cuts on your hands and face. The doctor he takes you to see after breakfast for the shoulder that Graves dislocated prescribes bed rest and light stretching for recovery and laudanum for any lingering pain. 

“What did you tell him?” you ask when the two of you head out for a light lunch in town before heading back home. 

“Told him you fell off a horse.” He shrugs. “Not that uncommon around here.”

All you can do is roll your eyes. 

Still, it’s as good an excuse as any. No one questions your story when you tell it to them over the following days, when your shoulder is still too tender for you to move it too vigorously. Only Kate lifts a brow knowingly, all but cornering you for the real story when you finally get a moment alone. 

“That sonuvabitch,” she hisses when you finally break and tell her what happened. 

“It’s fine,” you insist, shushing her. “John… Well, John handled it.”

She nods approvingly, then looks like she might say more before thinking the better of it. Silence falls between the two of you. 

“He—” you pause in the middle of your sentence, unsure of how exactly to say it. “It wasn’t so bad. Telling him, I mean.”

Kate must catch the slight inflection in your voice because she stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. “…I’m happy to hear that.”

You inhale as if gathering your breath to say more, but nothing comes out. You know what it is you want to say, but it’s getting it out that’s the tricky bit. What you want to tell her is that your trust wasn’t misplaced in the end; all of your fears that the truth would shatter the affection and trust that had finally been shown to you after a lifetime of nothing were unfounded, proven ultimately wrong. 

“Was there something else you wanted to add?”

You chew your lower lip. 

“No. Nothing else,” you say in the end. There’ll be a time someday to tell her that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced with John or Kyle either; perhaps that day will come sooner than you expect, but for now it remains on the distant horizon. It’s not your place to lecture or admonish; your place in her life is to offer the same feeling of security and companionship as she’s offered you.  

Today, you loop your arm through hers and join her for lunch. 

In town, people greet you like you never left. Only one person asks you about the man you were walking with the previous day, and Kate covers for you when you stumble over your answer, throat constricting in your panic. There’s no suspicion in the question, but still you anticipate it because life has conditioned you to expect pain as a response to any action or inaction. 

You are surprised when pain doesn’t come this time. But still, you are wary.

When you get home, John fills the tub with hot water for you and lets you wash up on your own while he tends to the horses, the third now unofficially his. You lean your arms over the side of the tub and drift in and out of your daydreams, ears attuned only to the sound of his voice and the owls calling from the trees just beyond the house. Eyes fluttering shut until slipping deeper into the water kicks you back into wakefulness. 

“You falling asleep in there?” he asks when he stomps back inside, the door slamming shut behind him and nearly giving you a heart attack. 

“No,” you deny, discreetly wiping the rheum from the inner corners of your eyes. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course,” he snorts. Amused as ever by seemingly anything that comes out of your mouth.

A telegram comes in to the sheriff's office some weeks later asking about a missing bounty hunter, and though you pitch forward in your chair when John tells you this, he’s quick to remind you that as far as anyone else knows, Graves moved on after his first visit a month or so back. 

It takes time to reassure you, but slowly your hands unclench from the edge of your seat. 

Still, you make yourself scarce for a week after that. It takes some time for you to feel safe again. You spend those first few days after hearing about the telegram constantly looking over your shoulder, plagued by the worry that you’ll be found out. Sharing your worries with John doesn’t go a long way towards alleviating them because his confidence never wavers. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Would it kill you to just pretend?” you huff, cracking an egg into the skillet. 

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for him here. ‘Far as anyone knows, he made his way west a long time ago,” he says, dismissing your concerns while clipping his fingernails at the kitchen table. You scrunch up your nose when you glance over your shoulder.

“You better not think I’m sweeping those up.”

He barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head at the same time. 

True to his word, the front door stays shut. No one comes knocking looking for an errant bounty hunter. Perhaps that is a lesson that you can take away from all of this—that there is no reward for isolating oneself. Your safety has only ever been assured in community, in putting your trust in others and safeguarding their secrets in turn. Only love has ever held out its arms for you to fall into. 

And now the days pass like clouds in the sky. 

Tranquility hovers on the periphery of your life with every intention of calling out your name. It’s waiting for you with open arms. 

In the evenings, John takes you upstairs to the bedroom and pries you open enough to fit himself in. His mouth blazes a trail across your body, sucking your nipples until they’re beaded, wetting his beard with the essence of your pleasure, and bringing you to the brink of completion time and again before pushing you over. 

After a while, he leaves a piece of himself behind. 

Weeks pass and the seasons change. The changes you notice in your body are physical as well as emotional. At some point since coming home, you must have started to unwind. Shoulders loosening up, knots melting down your back. Is it just you, or does the air smell fresher too? 

You pin the laundry up on the clothesline and wait for your husband to come home. The sun sets earlier these days with autumn just around the corner. Already the leaves have begun to redden and brown, some breaking off from the branches altogether and floating to the ground where you know eventually they’ll rot and dissolve into the earth, starting the cycle of death and rebirth all over again. 

Winter is fast approaching and you know this one will be tough with a little one on the way. You’ve already started preparing for the winter months—canning and storing corn and potatoes and other root vegetables harvested from your garden, making preserves from the fruits of autumn—apples and pears sealed in jars of thick syrup—and filling the cellar with barrels of salted and cured meats. In town, you visit the seamstress for clothes of thicker material and leave with an armful of wool flannel petticoats, fur-trimmed bonnets, and corsets of a heavier cotton coutil. 

You rest a hand on your belly as you stare off into the distant mountains. Even the sky darkens earlier these days. When all of the laundry is pinned on the line, you pick up the wicker basket resting by your feet and bring it back inside, shuffling into the kitchen to get started on supper. 

There’s still much that needs to be done before winter arrives. Firewood to be chopped, furs and blankets to be hung on the walls, the fireplace to be swept, and more. Enough to keep you busy and your mind occupied when you aren’t bent over a book because that’s also your reality these days. The librarian in town now knows you by name and knows to set aside a few books a week for you to pick up when you pass by with Kate. 

You don’t think much of the knock at the door at first, absent-mindedly thinking that it must be a neighbor come to visit. Only when you open the door to an unfamiliar face do you pause. 

It’s a woman, not too dissimilar in looks from you. A bit taller, but otherwise if someone were to describe you from looks alone, they might be tempted to use the same words for either of you. She stands on your porch with a suitcase held by her side, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the short trip from town. She dabs her forehead lightly with a handkerchief before pocketing it again.

“Hello there,” she greets, a bright smile on her face. “I’m looking for John Price. I was told he lives here?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her nonplussed, not understanding why a strange woman might be at your door asking for your husband in such a familiar way. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then the light goes on and your confusion shifts to disbelief with a twinge of rage. 

“We’re engaged to be married,” the other woman hurries to explain, taking a step closer, foot wedged in the door almost as if intending to barge right in. 

Her gall nearly makes you lose your temper. Months ago, you might’ve welcomed her arrival, eager to prove to John that you weren’t the woman that he mistook you for so that you could be on your merry way. But that time has long since passed. There isn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than here. You’ve put roots down, entrenched yourself in every way.

Your lips pull into a hard line, face set in stone. “You must be mistaken. He’s already married.”

She blinks, uncomprehending. “That’s…—are you sure? We’ve been corresponding. I know I’m a few months late, but I was held up back in—”

You cut her off by sticking out your hand, topaz ring shining bright on your third finger. “I’m sure. But thank you for stopping by; I’ll let John know you send your apologies.”

And with that, you shove her foot out with yours and shut the door on her face. On another day, you’ll allow yourself to feel guilty for your rudeness; for now, this is your happy ending to enjoy. 

And savor it, you will.

[thetxtdevil]

Strawberry Dreams *full fic*

Blueberry Boy!Kai x Strawberry Shortcake!Reader

summary: Kai knows a girl and he knows that no one is sweeter. She's got that special touch.

content: NSFW/MDNI, apparently in Strawberryland there's no sex ed so yeah..., fem.reader, reader's body is an aphrodisiac, blueberry kai, both characters are innocent/virgins af, handjob, 69 (bj and face riding), cum eating, slight nipple play?, missionary, implied overstimulation

word count: 2.4k

devil's note: this one’s for you @biteyoubiteme 😘

In Strawberryland, where all the people are happy and a little fruity, a big plump strawberry cottage sits in a green meadow, and across the meadow is a just as big blueberry house. On a nice weekend morning, you open your curtains, letting the sun rays cast your very red house.

“Apple Dumpling, it’s time to wake!”

Opening up the top of the dutch door you hear a call from your blueberry friend, “Good morning y/n!”

“Good morning Kai!” Kai runs out of his house to meet you at your door and you happily let him in. 

“Blueberry!” your little sister said waddling up to the man and he was quick to pick her up.“Good morning Apple, what are your plans for today?”

“Apple has a playdate soon, which is perfect because I need to make desserts for tomorrow’s bake sale.” Kai hums looking at Apple Dumpling and her still in her pajamas. “Well let’s get you ready”

Kai puts Apple in her cream-colored hat and shoes as you finish packing her lunch. Then, all of you walk through the sweet-themed neighborhood to Lemon Drop’s House.

<3<3<3

Back to your lovely strawberry cottage, you were making your strawberry shortcake desserts while Kai strums his guitar on your pink fluffy rug in your very red living room. Whipping up icing made from a new recipe you taste for the first time. "Mmm, Kai you need to try this!" The blueberry boy is swift on his feet, prepared to grab a spoon to try your new icing, only to stop once he sees your fingers stretched out in front of him. Kai looks at the creamy substance on your hand and then looks up at your bright eyes. His tall form bends down to lick your fingers, getting more than a taste of your icing. He tastes the light sweetness of the icing mixed with a fresh earthy flavor of,,, strawberry? He agrees that the icing tastes really good, but something felt odd... he felt different... The strawberry flavor stays on his tongue, he becomes hungry, not in his stomach, hunger burns in his chest down to his groin wanting more of that taste.

Kai's blue eyes study your focused face attention back on your pastry. Watching you spread the icing on the cooled white cake. He noticed that you must've been a little too excited with your new recipe as there were specs of the cream on your cheek and neck. The next event happens fast, you gasp feeling something soft and wet licking your neck. You look down only to see a fluff of the blueberry boy's sapphire hair. Frozen not knowing this weird yet good feeling, before you can say anything Kai fixes himself and goes back to playing his guitar covering his hard-on in his pants.

Putting the last of your finished sweet treats in the fridge, you waddle tiredly into the living room. Your lidded eyes look over the blueberry boy who is curled up snuggling next to his guitar. Smiling, you take the instrument out of his grasp and lay a strawberry patterned over his body. A sigh leaves your lips as you get on the floor next to Kai, fingers finding their way into his blue hair, soothing you to sleep.

What must’ve been an hour-long nap, you wake up to a slight change of sun rays in your living room. Out of habit, you again look over Kai’s physique to find something odd. You pout wondering what was wrong, your blueberry boy appears to have a tent in his pants. Shaking him, waking up the man below you, he groans in frustration. “Kai, what's wrong down there?”

“I don’t know,” his low voice grumbles, already bothered by his erection. You brush your hand on his covered dick causing him to gasp. You felt your insides twist for the first time at the sound, “does it hurt?”

“Yes, well kind of” he shifts, “it felt nice when you touched it.”

You ask if you could free him from his pants and he nods, pleading for you to do something. What whips out had your insides twist again, and your usual blushed cheeks become bright tomatoes. The irritated erected dick pulsating in much need of attention. “O-oh,” you gulp, “can I- can I touch it?”

“Be soft please.”

You nod and slowly bring your hand to his cock. Dainty fingers brush the tip, captivated by the sight of the lilac pre-cum coming from his tip. You smear the drops all over the tip and shaft finding the cream makes it easier to stroke him. Whimpers roll out of Kai’s tongue, his hands come up to his face embarrassed by his reactions. You learn the faster you flick your wrist the more abundant his moans become. “St-strawberry I- need-” You’re so hypnotized by his body you don’t pay attention to what he’s saying, “I-i need something.” His hands move from his face grabbing the fluff of the pink rug underneath him. The blueberry boy’s eyes were tightly shut and his beautiful mouth gapped.

“Hum, what’s wrong, do you need something?”

“Y-you, I need you!”

You’re stunned, you don’t know what to give him other than working hard on pleasing his dick. Your other hand reaches to soothe his thighs, fingers coming close to his balls. A big welp comes from the man making you interested in playing with them. You find yourself becoming uncomfortable between your legs, pressing your thighs together the more Kai whimpers. Then to your surprise what looked to you like blueberry whipped cream spurts out of the tip of his dick onto his nice white shirt.

Your pussy felt like it was on fire, shifting in your spot to find yourself drenched. The blueberry boy’s chest was heaving trying to catch his breath. “Berry, are you still in pain?” You ask, rubbing his bulking chest.

“No, I feel… much better, but-” his blue eyes stare deeply into yours, “I still need you.”

You look over his body in thought, not knowing what to give him. His hand grazes your thigh making you jump at the sensation. “Kai?” the man hums pinching the fat of your thigh, “can you clean up what's in between my legs?”

Kai’s hand drifts from the top of your thigh inwards to feel nothing but wetness. His eyes widen, resulting in him trying to reach further fingers slipping into your folds. A moan instinctively passes through your ruby lips, your hand slaps your mouth looking at Kai. “Does that feel good Strawberry?” You nod, Kai smiles happily to make you feel as good as you did to him. His fingers leave your cunt putting your juices that soaked his digits up to his mouth. An animalistic groan rumbles out of his chest causing his eyes to darken. The taste of your arousal was more addictive and seductive than the taste of your skin.

You jump when Kai quickly reaches for your hips, dragging you to sit on his face while lifting your skirt over his head. “But Kai won’t I crush you.”

A mumbled “don’t care” blows into your dripping pussy making your breath hitch. You felt like you were going to go cross-eyed feeling his tongue diving deep into your folds. An unexplainable feeling fills up your insides naturally grinding onto his face. You slowly get your bearings, placing your hands on his chest, then opening your eyes to see Kai’s dick growing hard again. However, this time you wanted needed to taste that whipped cream he made.

Leaning down to grab his dick again, you slip your tongue out licking his tip to cause Kai’s hips to thrust up. You hum feeling his groans sending vibrations straight to your core. You make more kitten licks on his tip until you are comfortable taking his whole tip into your mouth. Both of you moan at the feeling of each other’s mouths. You had no idea what to do with Kai’s dick in your mouth, figuring to reach your hand around his length to do your newfound skill. Kai thrusts his hips up into your mouth, almost gagging you in the process. You didn’t care, you noticed every time you went down on him the more his moans vibrated into your cunt. 

The sweet and saltiness of Kai was purely satisfying for you but you could feel yourself getting wetter. All you could think of was how pretty your Berry would be, face all wet from you. The more you thought about it the more your body reacted. Grinding against the pretty boy’s face chasing the stinging feeling in your stomach while you bobbed your head faster. Synchronized moans resonated in the strawberry cottage, both of you getting more whiny, both of you getting to each other’s climax. The last force into your throat you feel Kai’s purple cream fill your mouth in complete ecstasy tasting nothing but blueberry scone. 

However, Kai was dissatisfied that you hadn’t come yet. You whine when you feel the lack of Kai’s tongue in your hole. A harsh lift of your hips, your eyes widen at Kai manhandling you down on the carpet. “Sorry love, I just want to see you.”

You grind on nothing when Kai admires your body below him. You whine like a puppy seeing this dark blueberry in front of you. Has he always been this big? You always thought your Berry was beautiful, but has his features always made you feel like you were going to boil over?

His eyes trail from the plush of your red lips to the plush of your covered tits. His big hands are grabbing at the mounds causing your back to arch. “Can I see them?”

You nod, helping him get your top off. You didn’t understand they were just your breasts, what was so special about them– “Oh!” A screech courses through your throat when you feel Kai’s mouth on your nipple, resulting in finding another place of pleasure. One hand massages the other breast while his other hand finds its way back to your folds. Fingers deliciously explore your cunt as they try to find your tight fluttering hole. He slips one finger generating a moan from you and pulsating around the digit, and then another. You cry at the stretch but soon you feel your wetness dripping down your ass onto your cute carpet. Kai’s lips let go of your breast trailing kisses up to your neck to the tips of your cheeks. “Do you feel good?”

“Y-yes Berry yes!”

Kai’s smile fades when he gets an idea, “What if- I put it in?” Your squeezed-shut eyes slowly open, looking at the beautiful blueberry boy on top of you then down his body see his hard dick so close to your cunt. Your fingers play with the hem of Kai’s shirt sending a signal to have him uncovered too. Drool runs down your crimson lips seeing the expanse of the man’s body, the sight distracts you while pulling your skirt off. Laying back down, you feel your heart pump hard against your chest, hearing the pounding in your ears when Kai finally puts his tip to your hole. “y/n?” you look back at his blue eyes, a reassuring smile on his face, “are you ok with this?”

“Yes,” your hands clench around his biceps, “but can you kiss me?” Kai leans down, sweet plush lips that always made you smile with his words. Now, with the taste of his earthy blueberry flavor lips, you relax along with your fluttering hole welcoming Kai’s fat tip in. A small gasp leaves your lips at the slight sting of the stretch, Kai kisses your lips over and over soon becoming addicted to your taste again. 

Kai bottoms out taking your breath away. You felt so full and complete with this new sensation. The blueberry boy stayed still, his kisses exploring your face and neck. Something inside you felt antsy, you needed more, like how Kai needed more earlier. Your hips squirm under him sparking pleasurable friction. Both of you gasp, then look at each other knowingly. The blueberry boy’s hips move, continuously pressing his leaking tip on your cervix. You didn't know how to process your pleasure, head falling back, mouth screaming the prettiest moans for Kai.

The man was so invested with you, he has always felt admiration for Strawberry Shortcake but your cute reaction gets him going harder. A screech erupts from your mouth when Kai hits a certain spot that has you seeing stars, “Berry, j-jus-ah like that!”Kai tries so hard to keep his pace, thrusting into you but you are clenching around him causing his whole body to shiver. Heat starts to boil in your stomach “Mmm Kai I feel-” his little whimpers tickle your neck pushing you further into bliss. You cum on Berry’s cock along with his blueberry scone cream filling you up. Kai crashes on top of you, both of you calming down from your highs. 

The man lifts himself and slowly releases himself from your gummy walls. His big blue eyes sparkly at the sight of your spent body, trailing down to your swollen cunt seeping his lilac cream. His fingers tease your folds, gathering your strawberry juice along with his cream. You flinch, “Berry, I’m sore,” your complaining is interrupted by Kai shoving his fingers into your mouth tasting a mixture of both of you. You moan against his digits, “Let me just-” Kai bows his head to your pussy, “taste you again.”

<3<3<3

You stir the freshly made jam sauce on the stove, while Kai stands behind you with his arms around your waist. A knock on the door signals to both of you that Apple Dumpling has arrived. The little girl runs in while Lemon Drop walks in to greet you both.

“Sister and Blueberry, I had the most fun day today!” Kai loosens his grip on you to catch Apple who was already wanting him to hold her.

“Is that so little one?” you smile fixing her curly locks.

“Yes, Soobin and Meringue took me to Strawberryland’s Zoo,” Apple exclaims with the biggest smile.

“Yeah it was a fun day,” Soobin says smiling at Apple, his eyes drifting towards Kai and you noticing a particular glow, “it seems like you two had a fun day too.”

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @incogrio, @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman

[jobean12-blog]

Life is Good

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 999

Summary: Bucky loves to take care of you even if it means he has to get out of the the warm and cozy bed but he'll be keeping it warm for when you get home.

Author's Note: My sweet friend @sgt-seabass shared this absolutely lovely and adorable tik tok with me and just made me think of this softness with Bucky and Alpine. Thank you love! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft sweet fluff and warm and fuzzy 😁

“You don’t have to bring me to work Buck. Stay in bed!”

Alpine meows in agreement and stretches himself out in the warm spot Bucky just vacated.

“Nah doll face. I’ll take you. I don’t want you going out in this alone.”

You stare at him as he sits sleepily on the edge of the bed and yawns, the backdrop of the neighboring buildings obscured by the flakes of snow fluttering wildly outside but doing little to distract from his perfection.

“Bucky.”

“Doll.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and crooks his finger at you before patting his thigh.

You walk between his legs and sit, curling against his bare chest, still warm from sleep.

“Just need a hug before we go.”

You hum happily into his skin with a soft inhale.

“I should call out…”

“You should.”

“But I have to get this project done.”

“I know baby doll.”

“Alpine?” you ask and peek over Bucky’s shoulder at the white fluff sprawled out on the bed.

The cat doesn’t even lift his head up.

“We all know his answer,” Bucky chuckles. “He’d stay in bed all day.”

You place a soft kiss to Bucky’s neck and nuzzle closer.

“Honestly. Hugs were the best and worst idea. I do not want to get up,” he says. “Ever again.”  

“Yeah, I know. Now I’m extra comfy and in my happy place.”

You feel the satisfied rumble that moves through his chest before he presses his thumb under your chin and tilts your face up to capture your lips in a toe-curling kiss.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his mouth.

“Uh huh, I know,” he sighs, kissing you again before he gently sets you down on the bed.

“Gimme five to wash up and change and we’ll go.”

Once Bucky is dressed he appears in the living room and looks you over.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.

“Yup!”

He crowds your space and pulls your hat down over your ears before tightening your scarf.

“Lunch?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer sweetly and pat your bag.

“Snacks?”

He then pulls your gloves from your jacket pockets and motions for your hands.

“Of course,” you reply.

When he has your gloves secured he gives you one more check and nods approvingly.

“Ok, let’s go.”

He gets himself dressed, of course with fewer accessories than you, and holds the door open while reaching out for your hand.

“Bye Alpine,” you yell.

Bucky walks you to the train station, takes the train with you and then walks you to your building before kissing you until you’re overheating. He watches you get inside and waves through the large glass panes until you disappear into the elevator.

The day flies by thanks to all that you have to do but you’re productive and manage to finish early. With excited steps you walk toward the elevator, contemplating calling Bucky to let him know you’re leaving. He insisted on coming back to get you and take you home but you want to surprise him and decide you can make it home just fine on your own.

Your trip back is uneventful and when you reach the door to your apartment you can already smell the familiar aroma of your favorite comfort meal. With a smile you unlock the door and walk inside, softly calling Bucky’s name.

When he doesn’t answer you toe off your shoes and whip off all your warm weather garments then walk to the crock pot on the counter and lift the lid, inhaling with contentment.

The bedroom door is wide open and as you get closer you can see Bucky’s bare foot dangling off the edge of the bed. You inch closer with quiet steps and find him laid out on top of the comforter in nothing but his black boxers.

The curtains that normally cover the large window next to the bed are pushed haphazardly aside, allowing the soft brightness of the snow to bathe the room in a white glow. Everything you can see outside is lined with a neat new edge of dazzling crystals.

As pretty as it all is your eyes quickly move back to the bed and Bucky.

His metal hand is curled around your pillow and his face is smushed into it. Alpine is laying in the small space between Bucky’s bent leg and his arm with all four legs straight out and his furry belly gently rising and falling with his even breathing.

You stare for a few moments before taking your phone out and snapping a photo.

“New lock screen?” Bucky mumbles as he slowly shifts and opens his eyes.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

“How come you didn’t call me doll?”

His voice is stern even though his face is half hidden in your pillow.

“I was done early and wanted to surprise you…surprise!”

He grumbles something about ‘next time you better call because blah blah’ and trails off.

“Get over here doll.”

“That’s my pillow,” you tease.

“Smells so good,” he murmurs with one last nuzzle before holding out his arms and making grabby hands.

You curl into him and after several kisses you ask, “did you fall asleep reading again?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I got the food in the crock pot, had a snack or two then decided to read while I waited for you to call and well…”

“Thank you for cooking. It smells so good.”

“Of course baby doll. It’ll be ready soon.”

“Mm. I don’t want to get up yet.”

“Me either.”

“Meow.”

Alpine stretches and presses himself closer into Bucky while lightly kneading the comforter.

“Hi furball,” you giggle. “Did you help daddy cook?”

Bucky scoffs playfully and tugs you closer into his embrace.

“He’s been in the same spot since you left!”

“He’s living the life!” you muse.

Bucky slides his face closer to yours and holds your gaze while he delicately traces a finger along the curve of your jaw.

“It’s the best life,” he murmurs against your lips.

@lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @haileygarciasunshine

[shouyuus]

chapter five: true love's kiss

roronoa zoro; 4,063 words; fluff, hurt/comfort, no "y/n", enemies to LOVERS (the lovers happen now), dreams as a literary device, first kisses, possessive!zoro, happy endings, sanji is a tease but a good friend

summary: in which love does conquer all, actually

a/n: phew!!! and here we are friends! the last chapter!!!! thank u all for the lovely comments and for sticking this through! it's def my longest fic to date (and i think will be for a while... 21k is a lot of words lmfao); anyway, enjoy all the fluff! it's def earned i think!

< to the table of contents

By the time the fighting ends, the rain is coming down in great sleet-gray sheets, washing the deck of the last remnants of blood, even as the Merry tips this way and that, tossed over the waves of a careless sea.

Zoro kicks bodies over left and right, slinging them over the edge of the ship as he checks each face, grimacing as he thinks to himself — no, no, no.

“Zoro!” it’s Sanji that finally manages to drag Zoro upright, pinning him to the edge of the ship, shaking him by his shoulders, “what the hell are you doing?!”

“Her body!” Zoro shouts, shoving at Sanji’s rain-slick hands, “I have to find it —”

Nami has both arms wrapped around herself as she takes two steps forward, her bright hair stuck to her cheeks in tangerine streaks.

“Didn’t she say she’d show up at the last place she fell asleep?”

Zoro stares at her, wide-eyed, for three solid seconds before he scrambles out of Sanji’s grip and makes for the crow’s nest, taking the ladder three rungs at a time. He nearly rolls across the tiny crow’s nest as he forces his way through the trap door, his eyes whipping wildly from left to right, but there’s already a sharp, relentless dread ossifying in the marrow of his bones as he leans over the edge and shouts —

“She’s not here!”

It’s Usopp who answers, “What about your room?”

Zoro tumbles out of the crow’s nest, skidding down the length of the mast, but by the time he manages to get below decks, Nami’s already standing in his opened doorway, a hand pressed to her mouth.

Zoro races to her side and feels his breath freeze in his lungs.

Because you’re there, tucked into his hammock, your cheek pressed into his pillow, a blanket tucked around your shoulders, your eyelids fluttering as if they’d caught you in the middle of a particularly active dream.

In stumbling steps, Zoro makes his way to the edge of the bed, his shoulder bumping Nami’s as he inches by. He drops onto a wooden barrel and buries his face in his hands. Behind him, he hears Nami slump to her knees with a sound that’s caught halfway between a sob and a laugh.

Relief crackles through his veins like so much static electricity. Vaguely, he registers the sounds of the rest of the crew gathering by the door, Sanji helping Nami to her feet, Luffy making his way over to clap Zoro hard on the shoulder.

“Well, she’s for sure breathing!” he remarks, to which Usopp lets out a small, tinny laugh, and everyone follows suit. Zoro puffs out a breath and feels a saltwater sting in his throat.

He licks his lips and tastes the sea; when he blinks, his lashes come away wet.

It’s still relatively early in the day, so eventually, Sanji begs off to go make some lunch — for the recovering soul, he says. Luffy follows him, and a few minutes later, so does Usopp. Only Nami stays, her knees curled into her chest, her back against the wall, her eyes fixed on you as she counts your steady, drawn out breaths. But eventually, even she gets to her feet, reaching out to give Zoro’s shoulder a hard squeeze before ducking quietly out of the door.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Sanji comes to put a tray of food on a barrel by the bed. Zoro spares it a single glance, noting that Sanji’s included all your favorites as well as his own.

In the early evening, he reaches over for a riceball, and then another.

It isn’t till midnight that exhaustion finally takes over and he dozes into a shallow, fitful sleep.

— — —

You dream of dying.

Of falling down an endless ravine, of feeling your lungs fill and fill and fill with water. Of the sharp, silvering lick of a hungry blade, of fire as it burns slowly, creeping across your blushing skin.

You dream of terror, of your body fighting for a breath, a kick, a life, even as your mind resigns to the dull knowledge of impending death. You dream of peace, of lying down and falling asleep, of surrendering yourself to the warm, merciful dark and it’s wide, welcoming embrace.

You dream of Zoro, of the boy he used to be, of the raw hunger and determination in his eyes as he ran through his katas, of how wide he smiled when he was convinced no one else was looking. You dream of the man he is now, of the softness that had bled from him when he traced a hand along your cheek to press a strand of hair behind your ear. You dream of falling asleep next to him, of waking up to find yourself in his arms, of being cradled against his chest, of being laid gently in his hammock, of his body next to yours.

You dream.

You dream of falling, and falling, and falling. You dream of a voice, so deep it sounds like the underbelly of sound, grating out of the fathomless dark, reminding you of the bargain you weren’t even alive to make.

But your dreams always come back to dying, the act now so familiar to you that your body aches for it like a heart aches for company. You have died so many times the motion is braided into your muscles, inked into your skin, your lungs so used to giving up air that sometimes, you find yourself gasping out of a dream, clutching at your chest.

And that is how you wake — rocketing upright, fingers scrabbling at your throat, the phantom bite of Zoro’s blade lingering over your skin like the persistent itch of a healing wound.

It’s Zoro’s voice that pulls you back, his breathless, startled voice, your name tearing out of him like a curse, or a prayer.

“Y-you’re…” he seems unable to continue, the sight of you sitting up in his hammock, your eyes bright and a little glossy, your cheeks flushed with the remnants of your dreams, the early morning light pouring through his tiny window like so much pale gold, casting you in it’s relentless light.

Zoro blinks, feeling his muscles ache from the strange position he’d fallen asleep in, having roused himself so often during the night, if only to check that you’re still here, and still breathing.

“Zoro…” his name on your lips sounds like absolution, the final bit of proof he’d been waiting for before he jolts forward to pull you into his chest, pressing you to him so hard you yelp in surprise, the entire hammock swinging back with the force of his body.

He spears his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your head, his nails scraping against your scalp as he clutches you close enough to count your heartbeats reverberating through his chest. Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you bury your face in the side of his neck, your uneven breaths hot against his skin.

“Never,” he says, in a voice ribboned with fear and anger and regret, still holding you to his chest as if he might be able to meld your skins into one, “make me do that again.”

You let out a shattered little laugh, shaking your head as you burrow deeper into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, I’ll make someone else do it next time.”

Zoro jerks back, his glare fierce as he narrows his eyes.

“I mean it,” he says, his fingers inching up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs pressing divots into your skin as he searches your eyes. You stare up at him, softening as you reach up to wrap your hands around his wrists.

“I’m sorry if I scared you — it was — that was the only thing I could think of to do —”

“Don’t be sorry — just promise.”

Your breath hitches in your chest as your gaze cuts away. Your hands drop but Zoro’s grip never wavers.

“I — I don’t —”

“I’ve already had to watch you die twice,” Zoro says, his fingers finally loosening as he leans down, his eyes flickering frantically over your face as if trying to commit every part of you to memory, “I’m not trying to go for a third.”

“Yeah, I know…” you reach up to smooth your thumbs over his furrowed brows, feeling them relax as you trace your fingers over and down the sides of his face. And for a moment, the pair of you are caught in the startling light of dawn, each unwilling to let go of the other, drinking each other in as if you might never get another chance.

“It’s just…” you find your gaze held still at his lips, at the way they’re parted ever so slightly, before you trace a line up the bridge of his nose to admire the skin there, kissed by a constellation of soft freckles.

Zoro grazes his fingers down to your jaw, tipping your head up, massaging at the knots at the junction of your neck and shoulders.

You let out a soft gasp that sends shivers wreathing through his body.

“Just?” he asks, almost surprised to find his own voice so husky as he swallows.

“I thought that if I were to die… yours is the last face I’d ever want to see.”

Its this admission that somehow simultaneously melts the tension in his muscles and also sets fire to his skin as if his whole body were made of nothing but kindling, your words the spark, your voice the wind that fans alive the flames.

He leans down to press his forehead to yours, letting his eyes flutter close as he tries to take a steadying breath even as the heat chases into the depth of his stomach and coils tight in his gut, making his knees feel weak.

“Fuck…” is the best he can manage, the pair of you still face to face, foreheads pressed, breaths mingling.

He feels you let out another laugh, and then — something warm and soft pressing to his lips. His eyes flash open just as you’re pulling away, looking deliciously bashful as you try to glance away. But Zoro chases after you with the determined precision of a hunter, pulling you back and melding your lips so smoothly it’s all you can do is let yourself be kissed.

And as he kisses you, you briefly wonder if this isn’t what all those deaths had been preparing you for. All those drownings just to make sure you were ready for a kiss like this — a kiss where you wouldn’t need or want to ever breathe again. A kiss that burns hotter than any fire, one that tears you open from the inside out and sews you back together again.

You can feel the force of it cracking open your ribs, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he could reach inside you and cup your heart in the palms of his hands. You almost want him to. You think it wouldn’t be such a terrible way to go.

When you finally pull apart for the first time, it’s you who chases after him, tugging him back down in an urgent, messy clash of teeth against teeth, mouths open, licking and eager and hungry.

Zoro grunts at the force of your kiss, at the wildfire burn of ravenous longing braiding through his blood, exploding in sparks of white behind his eyes till he’s reeling and dizzy from the light. And when you finally pull back for a half-drawn breath, it’s him that once again surges forward, but the hammock swings up too far, and the resulting downward momentum catapults you both onto the floor, his body cushioning your fall till his back is pressed against far wall, you half-straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face to stop yourself from toppling further into him.

You let out a shocked laugh, even as he too finds himself chuckling. The ridiculousness of the situation finally settling in around the pair of you.

A second later, Sanji slams open the door, looking wildly around for a second before spotting you. His eyebrows jerk up as he takes in the scene, the tangle of blankets around your legs, Zoro’s hands on your hips, the clear high blush in both your cheeks.

“Oh so sorry to interrupt — I heard all this commotion and thought something bad might’ve happened,” his voice is half-teasing, half relieved exasperation. He puffs out a dramatic sigh, digging in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter.

Finding both, he takes a deep pull, letting a thin stream of smoke out through his nose before casting you both a sharp, mischievous look.

“Should’ve known it was moss-head here having dessert for breakfast.”

“Fuck off, cook.”

Sanji smirks, rolling his eyes as he saunters away from the door, leaving it to swing shut behind him, but not before calling out —

“Remember to take breaks! Breakfast’s in an hour, and I’m not savin’ you any if you miss it!”

— — —

Breakfast is a messy affair that day — with both you and Zoro slinking into the kitchen exactly one hour later, Zoro looking annoyed, and you looking understandably sheepish. The second you meet Sanji’s eyes, you flush a bright crimson and look away, but Zoro only scoffs as he drops into his normal seat and folds his arms. You slip into the seat next to his, your gaze fixed determinedly on the table before you.

When Nami arrives, she flings her arms around you, giving you a hard squeeze.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she says, pulling back with fever-glass eyes, shimmering with tears.

Zoro grunts, “I’ve already tried that.”

You resist the urge to shoot Zoro a dirty look, and instead, squeeze Nami’s arms.

“Sorry I scared you.”

“It was pretty scary!” Luffy’s voice rings out as he joins the throng, plopping into the seat at the head of the table and flashing you a massive grin, “but boy are we glad you’re okay! It’s kinda a cool power you have! Scary, but cool!”

“I wasn’t worried for a minute!” Usopp claims as he trundles in, smiling bravely as he takes the last seat. At a pointed look from Nami, he clears his throat and turns towards Sanji, “So! Uh — what’s for breakfast?”

Sanji smirks as he starts to set out an entire breakfast service, complete with eggs three ways, freshly baked brioche with a variety of homemade jams, grilled fish, sausages, bacon, a steaming pot of rice, along with miso soup, freshly squeeze tangerine juice, and hot tea.

“And an aged ale,” Sanji says, offhandedly, setting a bottle in front of Zoro without looking at him, “for medicinal reason only, alright? Don’t go looking for this kind of treatment every day.”

Zoro blinks at the bottle of ale before shrugging and popping off the cap with a finger.

“Wow, Sanji! This is amazing!” Luffy compliments, before immediately digging in. Usopp looks similarly eager as he reaches for a steaming brioche bun.

Sanji smiles as you make to reach for some eggs and Zoro bats your hand away, tugging the entire tray towards you for easier access.

Nami only smirks.

“I figured we could all use some good fuel after —” Sanji clears his throat as he settles in his own seat, neatly tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt, “well, after a hard battle.”

His voice catches briefly before he hitches a bright smile back onto his face and serves himself a thick slice of bacon.

You pause, halfway through slicing a perfectly poached egg, your eyes caught on the golden yoke beading at the tiny puncture wound from your knife.

“Look — I’m really sorry for —”

“Don’t.”

“It’s alright.”

Zoro and Nami speak at the same time, both freezing for a second before glancing at each other and Zoro sighs, slumping back in his chair with his arms folded.

Nami purses her lips before taking a breath.

“It’s… well, it’s not alright,” she amends, staring down at her own breakfast, “but you don’t have to apologize. Just…” she finally looks up, her gaze electric in the morning light spilling through the wide windows, “let us protect you next time.”

Zoro grunts a brief affirmation as you swallow passed the lump in your throat.

“I — it’s just — it’s hard,” you admit, setting down your utensils to stare at the palms of your hands, the skin there soft and unworn, so deceivingly so. Sometimes, you hated the fact that you always came back devoid of scars — as if even that has to be stripped from you. The proof that you’d suffered, the reminders that you’d time and time again survived.

“When dying —” you force your mouth to wrap around the word, to hold it on your tongue without shrinking away, “is the only thing I’ve known for… for forever, really.”

“Mm, well,” Luffy’s slightly muffled voice breaks out from down the table, making everyone jump. He grins, swallowing a mouthful of sausage, “Shanks used to tell me that dying and living are really just the same thing in the end — you just gotta choose what you’d rather do that day!”

A beat of thin, shocked silence follows, before you break into a surprised laugh.

“Whoever this Shanks person is — he sounds like a pretty cool guy.”

Luffy nods enthusiastically, spearing another sausage with great voracity, “He was! And I think he’s right! I mean — we’re your crew now! And we’ll take care of you. So… just choose to live next time!”

Nami is the first one to start laughing, and soon, everyone follows after. The sheer ridiculous simplicity of the statement catching everyone off-guard, the truth of it sweet as freshly made mochi.

— — —

Later that day, you find yourself staring out at the endless stretch of sea at the head of the ship, the wind tangling loose fingers through your undone hair.

Zoro sidles up next to you, standing close enough for your arms to brush.

He’s rarely left you alone in the hours since the fight, since you’d woken up again in his hammock. But it’d been his turn to clean out the bilge, and he’d mercifully not asked you to accompany him for that specific little venture.

Now, he stands next to you, his body warm, his hair slightly damp from what looks like a recent wash.

“We’re goin’ after him,” he says, his eyes following yours as you both scan the wide expanse of shattered-glass sea.

“Crocodile?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“Yeah, and Baroque Works.”

You turn to face him, the wind whipping your hair into so many thin tendrils of darkened silk. You reach up a hand to catch a few strands in a vain attempt to keep them from flying into your eyes.

Zoro twists around, leaning in to rake his fingers through your hair, wrapping them around his fist till he’s reeling you in, close enough for you to press both hands to his chest.

He watches as you fight with some internal compulsion, probably to tell him that it’s too dangerous, that they’ll never win. But finally, you seem to steel yourself, looking back up at him with a liquid fire deep in the warm darkness of your eyes.

“It won’t be easy,” you say, your voice soft, but he’s close enough to catch them, his other hand steadying itself along your hip.

His lip slants into an amused grin.

“Good. I’ve never liked an easy fight.”

You smile despite yourself, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Masochist,” you say, inching your hands up to loop around his neck. Zoro smirks, cocking his head to one side, tugging you ever closer by the back of your neck.

“Maybe. But speaking of liking pain — what’s this I hear about you and the waiter makin’ stuff later on in the kitchen?”

You peer up at him with huge, doleful eyes before heaving a melodramatic sigh.

“I always thought you were the jealous type,” you lament, attempting to turn your face away but Zoro’s fingers dig into your skin, sending a strange, gooseberry ache tingling through you as you gasp, your eyes flickering back to meet his molten gaze. Heat blisters into your cheeks as something very much like desire pools in the depths of your belly.

“I’ve never been good at sharing.”

You laugh, nodding, “Yeah… that was true even when we were kids. Even though you always pretended you didn’t want anything till it was offered to you.”

Zoro scoffs, shrugging, “Figured if something was mine… it’d come to me in the end.”

“And now?” you ask, the hint of a tease threading through your voice, just enough to make Zoro’s skin prickle with want.

“Now, I just take what I want.”

“Or…” you lean in to skim your lips along his cheek, lilting your voice low enough to make him shiver, “you follow them for three whole weeks, then offer to buy them a drink at a bar, right?”

Zoro makes a half-annoyed, half-contemptuous noise, frowning as he pulls back. But before he can say anything, you’re laughing, and the sight of it strikes him breathless, the mid-morning sun draping you in orange and gold, your cheeks flushed with life and color, your body warm and soft in the circle of his arms.

You’ve never looked so beautiful — you’ve never looked so daringly, dashingly alive.

By the time the laughter trickles out of you, Zoro is also smiling. He reaches up to coax your face towards his, brushing your hair back with a careful finger.

“Guess you’re right — you got away in the end.”

You still against him, watching as he glances off towards the vast expanse of endless sea.

“But rumor has it, you’ve never let go of a mark,” you say.

Zoro’s eyes snap back to you, and the way you’re grinning up at him makes the world tilt on it’s axis around him.

“I haven’t,” he murmurs, lowering his head till your noses are bare inches apart.

“Then… don’t let me ruin your record.” The moth-wing flutter of your lashes twists tight the torque in his chest, and it takes him half a breath to realize that this must be what it feels like to fall in love, or rather — to realize that you’ve already fallen.

“Hn. Wasn’t planning on it,” he says, delighting in the tiny little shiver that shakes through you at his words. He pauses as your noses finally brush, your breath ghosting across his lips, so painfully, torturously close.

“So…” he purposefully draws out the word, letting it rumble through him, a low growl of sound. You blink up at him, curious, but pliant, and so, so terribly trusting. He allows himself a wolfish grin.

“What’re you and the cook makin’ later?”

You let out a frustrated groan and make to pull away but Zoro easily jerks you back, locking you against his chest even as you let out a surprised squeak.

“Are you going to kiss me or not, Roronoa?”

Zoro chuckles, “Depends on what your answer is.”

You flush, crinkling your nose as you glare up at him, “Sakura-mochi, the kind you like. There, happy?”

“Sure. So long as no one else gets to have any.”

Your eyes go wide, and you open your mouth to retaliate but Zoro presses in, crushing your lips to his in a searing kiss. The only noise you make is a tiny, desperate sigh as he sates himself on the taste of you, the sharp thundering in his chest quelled by the way you clutch at him, your fingers digging sharp pinpricks into his chest as you scrabble to pull him closer.

He is breathless when you break apart, and he’s light-headed with the sight of you and your kiss-bruised lips, stained dark by the pressure of his teeth. It sets something savage on edge inside him and it takes everything in him not to drag you somewhere and let the burning hunger swallow you whole.

“Like I said,” he says, his voice ragged, “I’ve never been good at sharing.”

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the next chapter (the epilogue) will be smut! pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged!!!

[gucciwins]

The Lucky One

Word count: 11510

A/N: My sweet friends! I hope you're still excited for this story, even after all the time I had you wait. Life was hectic and finding time to write has been difficult. It's fitting that I posted this a year ago, and now posting the update a year later. Happy reading!!!

Warning: smut, female pleasure, phone sex, (brief use of Daddy)

Gala After Gala

please come tell me your favorite part

+

Harry was banned from the bathroom because he was a distraction. Y/N had been stuck doing her mascara for over ten minutes because he made a silly face at her every time she looked in the mirror. Y/N banished him to wait in her bedroom. He decided to look in her closet, wanting to pick her outfit for the night, and noticed how empty it was beside her winter coats hanging in the back, taking up most of the space.

“Beauty?” He called for her. 

Y/N answered with a soft “Yes, love?”

Harry asked her what was going on in his head. “Where’s your emerald dress?” 

“It was Sapra’s. She let me borrow it.” 

“And the black one with the long slit,” Harry asks while continuing to look between every piece of clothing she has.

Y/N comes out of the restroom, hair perfectly curled and lips glossed. He can’t wait to kiss it away. Harry already knows she’s wearing her new favorite gloss, with hints of strawberry. Harry knows because he tested it out for her, ensuring it was a long-lasting taste and not only a smell sold by companies to trick her. 

“Dawn’s sister.” 

Harry frowns. Y/N attends endless galas, and each dress she wears looks like they were made for her and her alone. Yet, he’s only discovering that most of them were never hers. “The yellow one?”

“Dry cleaners!” 

He breathes out a sigh of relief. While Harry knows Y/N might not have much space here, they act as if they don’t spend most of their time at Harry’s, where many of her items have started accumulating. Harry has begun to buy her favorite milk (Oat) and her favorite shampoo (Coconut scent) to have stocked. It has become her place as much as it is his. He knew he could make a closet hers. He hates that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. 

“Beauty, I thought they were all yours,” Harry stares at Y/N while she puts in her earrings for the night. “Are you telling me I’ll never see that baby pink dress?”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his dramatics, kissing his cheek as she exits the bedroom. “That’s only for special occasions.” Y/N wore it for her graduation. A midi pink dress with flowers embroidered up the sides and sleeves. Harry could not keep his hands to himself that night, not that she minded. It’d been tucked away for a few weeks until Harry whisked her away to Italy and Greece as a Graduation present, where they spent weeks exploring new cities and kissing on every cobblestone street. 

He trails behind her like a lost puppy. “Personally, think every moment with you is special.” 

Y/N steps into her heels by the door, but before she can reach down, Harry is kneeling on one knee, placing her foot on his thigh to tighten the strap for her. Harry makes her fall more in love with him each day. Those three words seem to hover around them, but neither of them ever says them because it is told with each action, each kiss.  “Thank you, honey.” 

He kisses her calf before placing it back on the floor. “All ready, Beauty?” 

“Let’s go eat!” 

It’s not every day that they get dressed up for dinner, but Harry is leaving on a three-week trip and wants to take her out on a date before they move to Facetime calls and late-night texts. Harry had tried to convince her to come, but work would not let her. Not when she was planning for two different galas to take place in three months. 

+

Dinner was delicious. Y/N was so hungry she cleaned off her plate. She always saved a bit to have leftovers the day after for her lunch, but Harry was gracious and ordered a meal for tomorrow. It didn’t surprise her how well Harry was able to read her.

She was strolling behind Harry, eating the ice cream they stopped to get after she told him she was craving something sweet. Harry kissed her and promised they’d stop by the shop two streets from her apartment. He was leading the way into her flat, telling her to get ready for bed, and he’d turn on an episode of Derry Girls for them. It was one of her most-watched series, and Harry enjoyed the humor. 

“Nooo, I want to watch an episode of Ghost Files,” she yells from her bathroom. 

Harry sighs because he knows this means she’s not tired. She wouldn’t dare to sleep through it because she loves Shane’s dumb commentary. While Y/N promises she doesn’t believe in ghosts, she is also the type to never put herself in any scary or off-setting situation. 

Y/N comes in, rubbing moisturizer down her neck, and smiles when she sees a familiar episode playing. “Perfect.” She steps close to Harry, kisses him, and makes him promise to be quick in the restroom because she is ready for cuddles. Harry tried his best to be fast but enjoyed his night routine. He also had to double-check that he had everything packed for his flight tomorrow, not wanting to make a stop at home tomorrow that would have him leave Y/N sooner than he needed to.

By the time he entered the bedroom, Derry Girls was playing, and Y/N was fighting off sleep. 

“You took forever,” she mumbled against her silk pillow. 

He gave her a dimpled grin and cuddled close to her side. “You love to remind me how important my nightly routine is. That I can’t skip around. Something about my wrinkles,” Harry teases. 

Y/N rolls her eyes, laying her head on his chest. “No wrinkles. Maybe some white hairs are coming in, but I think you’d be a sexy silver fox.”

Harry breathes out a laugh, “think I’m that old?”

“You’re perfect,” she pecks his lips. 

“Think you’re perfect, too. So perfect for me,” Harry tells her. 

Y/N had never felt peace like this, to feel so at home with a partner. Harry showed her how much he cared for her every single day. The ease she felt around him allowed her to be herself the entire time, with no facade, no excuses on why she wasn’t getting ready. Harry had seen her at her best and worst and still chooses her every day.

There are three words on the tip of her tongue dying to come out, but instead, she slips off to sleep in her lover’s arms. 

+ 

Morning came far too soon for Y/N’s liking; usually, she wakes up feeling rested, but this morning, she felt like she tossed and turned all night. Harry, at one point, had to hold her tight against his chest because she was squirming around too much. She apologized, and thankfully, his heartbeat lulled her back to sleep. Now she’s up at six am watching Harry get ready to drive himself to the airport. She had requested to drive him, but Harry didn’t want her to deal with all the traffic madness that went on there. He also knew walking away from her at the airport would be harder. He’d be too tempted to stay in the car and ask her to drive home. Harry loved spending time with Y/N, and since officially being together, they have only gone a few hours apart. Saying goodbye was hard, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing that today. 

She got up with him, with sleep still in her eyes, and while Harry went to do a quick rundown of his skincare, Y/N made him a cup of coffee; he bought her some of his specially imported beans from Columbia once he learned she enjoyed it. Harry told her she made the best cups of coffee; while she didn’t know if that was true, she was happy to do something for him. 

Y/N sat on her counter, watching him collect his belongings and line them up nicely at the door. He had an order for everything. She knew he kept a packing list because he always feared forgetting something. He knew he had overpacked for this trip because he would be stopping to visit Mum and sister. Y/N thought it was sweet. Y/N had spoken with them over Facetime, but there’s nothing like meeting in person, and if all things went well, she knew she’d be meeting them over the holidays. 

She wasn’t used to the quiet of her apartment because Harry always had music playing. He saw she had a record player and bought a bunch of his favorites for her to listen to. She told him she hardly used it because it was a housewarming gift from her brother, Matias, who got it for cheap at an estate sale. When Harry was staying over, there was always a record from Joni Mitchell to Prince. 

“You got to call me when you land,” she says, breaking the silence. 

“It’ll only be two here, just in time for your break.” 

Y/N doesn’t hide her grin, knowing he had already checked their time difference. “Five days in London, and then off to Scotland.”

Harry nods because they both know she has his schedule memorized. He left her a list of contacts she could reach in case of an emergency, and he wasn’t available (he always would be). “Correct, Beauty. Do you want me to bring you back something? Cookies, a bag, or pearls.” 

“Only want you.”

“I’ll surprise you,” Harry promises, knowing he’ll stop at his favorite shops to get her something nice to make up for his time away.

Harry steps towards her, sitting on the counter. He places one hand on her waist and the other on her cheek and pulls her in for a kiss. His lips are soft and taste sweet, like his coffee. She sighs against him, not ready to separate, but he gives her one last kiss, telling her he has to put his bags away in the car. 

She watches him take two trips while double-checking his carry-on, not wanting to forget his passport, something he’s expressed he’s done more than once. On his final trip, Harry is in the car packing it in. Y/N has moved to lean against the doorframe, watching him fit his luggage in a car too small for two suitcases. There’s a heaviness in her chest, knowing she won’t see him for 21 days. There will be no kisses, no hugs, and no lunch together. Not even a sweet morning wake-up call. 

It’s going to be a lonely few days. 

Y/N can admit she’s become a bit dependent on spending time with Harry, but she doesn’t think it’s terrible. She still goes to work, hangs out with her friends, and gets her nails done, where she catches up on her favorite podcast, The Happiness Lab, but ends her days in Harry’s arms. He truly has become one of her best friends. While no one could ever replace Sapra, Harry and Y/N shared another level of intimacy. She was thankful to have him in her life. 

“What is it, beauty?” Harry asks, stepping toward her, looking beautiful. It’s unfair he wakes up looking this pretty with his messy hair and growing stubble. She knows it’s only three weeks, but she will miss him and wants him to know. Harry caresses her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into his warm touch.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/N breathes out.

“Miss me or my king-sized bed,” he teases. He told her to stay at his house if she wanted but that she’d miss him less at her apartment. She knew that was a lie; she saw him in everything in her home. Harry had left a touch on everything she had ever owned. From having his favorite blanket thrown on the back of her couch to his extra pair of shoes waiting by 

She shakes her head. “Seriously, H. Does Mitch really need you? Sarah’s going.” 

“They’ve got a bub to look after,” Harry reminds her.

“But I’m your baby,” she pouts. 

Harry laughs because he remembers her telling him “Baby” was too cheesy. Then, one night in bed, when she was close to reaching her peak, he called her “baby,” and it was over for her. She loved it, craved to hear it when he was pleasuring her. 

“Well, my baby has to work, or she’d be coming with me.” 

Y/N sighs because he’s right. 

It’s true, he told her a few months back, but there was too much to be done that she couldn’t take a vacation, not when Harry had told her he had planned a summer vacation for them. It was the only thing keeping her going. 

“Well, at least I can go to the farmer’s market.” It was popular, but the earlier she went, the less crowded. “Will need to go get some cash,” she talks aloud, already making a mental list of what to do once Harry takes off to distract herself. 

Harry grabs his wallet and a few bills, slipping it into her coat’s pocket. 

She reaches in after him, pulling out around what she assumed to be bills that added up to $200. “What’s this for?”

“For your fresh goods.”

“Honey,” she breathed out. “It’s too much.” 

“I need to care for you, even while I’m gone.” Y/N goes to respond, but he cuts her off with a quick kiss. “Let me do this. I’m already sad I won’t be there to give you flowers.”

Y/N backs down. He bought her flowers every week. They went from daisies to daffodils. “Thank you,” is her only response. 

“I’ll call you every night,” he promises, and Y/N takes him in, knowing she’s got minutes left with him. “Now, be a good girl and give me a kiss.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

Harry connects his lips to her in a sweet kiss. He has the power to make her forget everything. Y/N is wrapped up in his sweet taste. She’s aware that his hands trail her body before settling on his favorite spot (her ass). He slips his tongue in, giving him entrance to explore. Y/N knows she could kiss him all day, but they’ve run out of time.

Y/N pulls back breathlessly; she knows her lips are swollen. Y/N ran a finger over her lips as if she could still feel his mouth against hers. 

“I’ll text you when I board,” he turns around, walking away from her, ready to drive away.

A strong feeling overwhelmed her, and she could no longer keep in those three words. “Harry!”

He turns around, sunglasses on and a pretty smile on his lips. 

“I love you,” she breathes out.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Beauty, beauty!” 

He hurries over with shaking hands. “What did you say?” 

“I love you, Harry,” she repeats louder. 

“Oh darling,” his eyes are glistening. “I want to take you back inside and show you how much I love you.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“You’ve got a long drive ahead,” she reminds him, knowing the airport is always chaotic. She couldn’t believe she had let these words drop now that he was leaving. 

“Don’t make me go,” he pleads. “Why now, baby?” 

Y/N shrugs, running a hand through his curls. “It was too much to hold in with you leaving me.”

“I’m coming back, Beauty,” he promises. “Always coming back to you. Wish you’d come with me,” he pleads one more time.

Her smile gives away the same answer she’s been giving him for weeks. He knows she can’t. “Drive safe. I love you.”

Harry feels a flutter flow through him. He can’t wait to spend the rest of their lives sharing these three beautiful words. “I love you, Beauty.”

He pulls away, shaking his head. Harry hugs her tight to his chest, and she can hear the pounding in her chest. He kisses her a few more times for good measure. 

“I love you,” Harry tells her one last time as he drives away. She waves him goodbye from the porch and keeps smiling until he turns the corner, and that’s when she lets her tears slip. 

Y/N’s really going to miss him. 

When she’s back inside, Y/N hears her phone ring. She sees it’s Harry and answers quickly, worried something has happened. “You okay, honey?”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Honey?” 

“Say it again.”

She giggles, “I love you. Call me when you’re there.”

“One last time,” he asks. 

“I love you, Harry Styles.” 

+

“Hello, you’ve reached Harry Styles. I’m unable to get on the phone right now. Leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call when I’m available. Thank you.” His voicemail filled the quiet of her room. Y/N huffed; it was the third time she had tried calling him, and there was no answer. He promised her a date and even sent her a photo of how he added it to his schedule. 

Harry had been gone now for two weeks on business. He had begged her to come, and she almost caved, but there was too much going on at work for her to take a trip. Harry understood; of course, he did. He knew how much Y/N loved her job and would never try to take her from there unless he really needed her.

Y/N throws her phone to the end of her bed, deciding to give up for now. She had prepared a small meal to share with him. She knew it was cold now and couldn’t be bothered to eat it when her appetite was gone. Since her plans are gone, she phones Sapra, who quickly answers on the first ring. 

“Babes!” Sapra greets her cheerfully. “I was just thinking about you.” 

“Yeah, I got bad news at work. I had a cater cancel on me, and it’s like starting all over again with the hunt for the perfect person. “So,” Y/N dragged out. “I was thinking we can go drink my sorrows.” 

Sapra laughs, “Oh my sweet, Y/N.” She takes a moment to respond, but Y/N knows she’s in. “Of course, I’m in. Let me call in the boys and Dawn.”

They settle on going to a bar they know that sells delicious nachos. Dawn’s place is the middle ground, so they agree to meet there. 

Time with her favorite people is precisely what she needs. Her friends get along well with Harry, and she likes including him on their outings. It’s nice to go out, have a good laugh, and go home to cuddle with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend is still out of town, so she will return to an empty apartment and a cold bed. 

Y/N sent Harry a text to check-in. She hoped nothing terrible had happened but knew in her gut that if something was wrong, she would have a call from Sarah. The only update from Sarah was of her bub swaddled in a blanket Y/N made for him.

While Y/N loves dressing up tonight, she settled on jeans, a white top, and her favorite yellow cardigan, Dawn knitted. It keeps her warm and cozy while elevating her outfit. Y/N finishes slipping on her rings as she walks out the door. Y/N takes the ringer off her phone, slipping it into her bag, promising herself to have a fun night. 

Bars are not Y/N’s favorite place because it’s too loud, there is always a weird smell, and mostly because it’s hard to avoid creeps. She stands by the never-going-to-the-bathroom-alone code, and as she waits for Sapra to finish washing her hands, she has to politely move away from men stumbling down the hall. Once they’re settled back in their seats, Y/N relaxes. She has a drink in her hand, vodka cranberry (her favorite), and enjoys the evening. Her brother brought a new friend today, Brandon. He’s tall, a bit pale, and has a buzzcut. Y/N recognizes he’s attractive, but his brown eyes do nothing to her. Her MO when she was in Uni was chocolate brown eyes she could drown herself in, but now she knows the truth. It’s that emerald will always be captivating to her. 

Matias shares a funny story about Y/N when she was a child, making the group awe while Brandon shoots her a smirk. Y/N knows he’s flirting, but before she can tell him, she’s not interested. Isaac reminds Brandon that Y/N is a taken woman. 

“Y/N’s here alone,” Brandon tries. 

“Man is on a business trip.” Matias slaps a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Promise you, he will hear about this and be on the first flight back.” 

Brandon backs up with his hands up. 

Crisis Averted. 

Y/N can easily defend herself, but she’s glad her brother had her back in this case. Brandon sets his eyes on Dawn, who is all too happy to give in to her flirting ways. She remembers when Dawn would barely speak a word unless spoken to, but after two vodka sodas, it’s like Dawn becomes a new person who suddenly loves to talk. It makes Y/N laugh, but always makes a point to look after her. 

After two drinks, Y/N decides that’s all she wants. Everyone seems to agree. The bar gets more crowded, pushing them all together when Sapra gets a bright idea. 

“You know I’ve been wanting a new tattoo,” Sapra throws out her bait.

Matias rolls his eyes, “like you weren’t posting about your last one two weeks ago.” 

Sapra gasps, “So you do watch my story.” 

“More like skip,” Isaac chirps in. 

Y/N knows she has to intervene, or Sapra will bite their heads off. “Right, a tattoo sounds nice.” 

Sapra clinks her drink with Y/N’s. “Anyways, Roxanne has become a good friend. I can call her to see if she can squeeze us all in for a tattoo.” 

“I’m out,” Dawn calls out, who is four drinks in. 

Brandon shrugs, “I’m game.” 

Y/N looks at her brother and his husband. Isaac and Matias share a look. Y/N knows it’s going to be a no. They are never impulsive.

“We’ll supervise, you idiots,” Isaac shares.

Sapra cheers while Y/N thinks about the placement of her tattoo.

+

The shop was only a five-minute walk from the bar they were at. After Sapra phoned her friend who, yes, was available to tattoo three people at ten pm.

The shop is one Y/N has driven by many times. It’s small and intimate and entirely female-owned. The space is clean, and the receptionist counter has mints for customers to grab. The wall has beautiful paintings from a local artist, and Y/N knows she’d be happy to have one in her apartment (or Harry’s house). 

Brandon goes first. He’s quick to explain his tattoo idea. He wants a teddy bear for his nephew, born two months ago. Theodore was his name, and he wanted to do something special as the godfather. Y/N found it sweet. She wouldn’t mind keeping Brandon in the friend group. Mainly because it seemed Dawn was smitten. Brandon had her go back with him, feigning he was feeling nervous and needed Dawn to hold his hand to make him brave; it worked like a charm. 

As Brandon gets wrapped up, Sapra expresses her idea. Roxanne tells her it’s great but would prefer Sapra’s recent tattoo to heal a bit longer before going in for a new one. Sapra wants to fight it but knows when to back down.

“You got it, Roxie. But you will do it?”

Roxanne nods her head, making her lilac hair move around her. “Of course.” Roxanne looks back at the group. “That leaves one more.” 

All eyes turn to Y/N. She feels like shrinking into herself but instead stands up straight and follows Roxanne to her office. Y/N hands her phone off to Dawn, who promises to keep it safe. Y/N knows there will be a lot of drunk selfies to filter through tomorrow. 

Y/N has been thinking of getting a tattoo for some time now. She discussed it with Harry one time, but he always told her it was her body and would ultimately always be her choice. It wasn’t much help. That had been about two months ago, and now she knew she would be happy with it. 

“I thought about this for a long time,” Y/N explains to Roxanne as she places the stencil on her ribcage.

Roxanne laughs, “midnight screams impulsive.” Y/N laughs. She’s not wrong. She’s glad to have the company with her alone; she might have walked out of the shop by now. “Ribcage is pretty brave.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Y/N responds.

“Hurts a lot.” 

“I can take it.” Y/N knows it will be worth it. 

Sapra pops in, promising to hold Y/N’s hand if needed. Y/N wiggles her fingers, and Sapra hurries to her side. “This will be very sexy in the summer with a bikini.” 

“Harry is going to die,” Dawn giggles. Y/N notices Dawn holding her phone up and knows she’s recording. Well, at least they’ll all be able to look back on this. 

Y/N can admit the tattoo process wasn’t painless. It felt like constantly being strung by a bee in the same spot. The only good thing was that no bees died while she got inked. Sapra teared up as she released what Y/N got tattooed. It was a bouquet of Sapra and Y/N’s birth flower (Sapra shared the same month with Harry, but Y/N wasn’t reading into that right now). Roxanne brought Y/N’s vision to life, and it would forever be inked on her skin. 

The entire thing took 45 minutes to an hour. Y/N was being told about the aftercare when Dawn felt Y/N’s phone ring. It showed a picture of Y/N and Harry sharing a kiss at sunset. She thought it was no problem picking it up and was soon greeted with Harry’s face, suddenly realizing it was a Facetime call.

“Mr. Styles!” Dawn greeted cheerfully. 

“Just Harry,” he corrected with a slight laugh.

“Okay, Mr. Harry,” Dawn fell into a fit of giggles. 

He didn’t bother correcting her; instead, he looked for Y/N. “Where’s Y/N?”

Dawn held up a finger, needing to pass the phone as she was still laughing. “Hold on a sec.” 

The phone was then passed to Sapra. “Hi,” he waves.

Sapra gives him the cold shoulder. He has a small idea of why but knows she doesn’t need an answer. Y/N does.

“I can explain. But you don’t need to hear it,” Harry tells her.

“For once, I agree. I’ll find out either way,” she reminds him. 

Harry spots Y/N in the back of the frame, slipping on her shirt. He catches a glimpse of something around her waist. He frowned but called out for her. “Beauty?”

“Hi, Harry,” Y/N answers confused. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm…do you have a moment to talk?” 

Y/N is the only one in the frame, but by all the chatter Harry hears, it’s clear she’s not home. “I will be home in 30. The night was ending. Y/N scratches her neck; she sees the bags under his eyes and knows he hasn’t slept well. “Do you want to talk tomorrow? It can’t be a good time for you.” 

Harry feels his heart soften because she’s always looking out for him. He knows he should sleep, but he had a shitty day(s), and he knows even a few minutes with Y/N will make him feel better. Selfishly, he wishes Y/N was home accepting his call, but he can wait for her. He’d wait a lifetime if he had to. 

“I’ll call you when I’m home,” she promises.

“I love you,” Harry tells her. He never hangs up without saying it.

“I love you, Harry.” 

“Is everything alright?” Sapra asks concerned. 

Y/N kisses her cheek. “It will be. I got to get home.” 

Matias shows her he’s ordered her an Uber. They’ll share because he would feel awful sending her home alone. Y/N knows she’s lucky to have so many people who love her. 

Y/N is thankful her brother knows her well because he put Harry’s address as her drop-off location. She hadn’t stayed there a lot because it made her feel lonely. He asked her to house-sit, but he had no plants or pets to look after. Y/N’s hoping she can convince him he needs one in his life. 

She waves goodnight to her brother and makes her way inside. Slipping off her shoes, she wants to call Harry once she’s ready for bed, but it’s been thirty-five minutes, and she hates making him wait. Y/N calls him, and on the second ring, he’s answering. 

“Hi, beauty.” 

Y/N can hear the relief in his voice. As if he was holding it together until he got her alone. 

“Hi honey, I’ve got to get my makeup off, but I didn’t want to make you wait anymore.”

“Put me on video call.” He requests. 

Y/N does as he asks. She sets him on the bathroom counter. He stares at her with his pretty eyes, and Y/N knows she’s grateful to have him. She knows she’s in love. The moony look in his eyes tells her everything. 

Harry grins, being able to see her blushed cheeks and shimmering eyes. He knows Y/N always uses her Cosmos palette because she’s learned that the glitter makes her eyes shine in any kind of light.

“Fun night?” 

Y/N rubs her cleansing balm over her face as she tells Harry about the night’s event. She told him she could hurry if he was tired, but he shook his head no. “Keep talking, Beauty. I’m with you.” 

She continues to tell him about how well done her drink was, the perfect mix of alcohol and cranberry. Y/N promised to take him back another time. She spoke about Matias's friend and saw when Harry perked up at the mention of trying to chat her up. 

“Will that new friend be a problem?”

She giggles, rubbing her moisturizer into her skin gently.  “No. Matias gave him a talk. He got along wonderfully with Dawn, but she mentioned he’s fresh out of a breakup, so she won’t pursue anything.” 

“For now.”

“We’ll see, honey.” 

Y/N throws the phone on the bed as she begins to get changed. “Beauty, baby? Where’d you go?” 

She crawls under the covers, picking up her phone after getting comfortable. “Had to get changed. All tucked in now.”

“No show?” Harry teases. 

“Not unless you’re here to take it off me.” 

Harry groans. He is aware of how little Y/N wears to bed. “I will get on a flight right now.” 

“It’s only a few more days.” 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Y/N knows Harry has much to share, but she wonders what he will start with. 

“Was that a tattoo?” Y/N feigned innocence. “When I first called you. Thought I saw something.”

Y/N explains the tattoo Sapra has been in her life for as long as she can remember. Tattooing something is permanent and something he reminded her of endlessly, but in that moment, she couldn’t think of a reason not to get it. 

“Do you regret it now?” Harry is still looking at the photo she sent him, and he’s thinking about the pain she went through. He wished he was the one holding her hand. 

“No, the pain was manageable. I love it.” 

Harry grins, “I love it too.” 

She knew he would. 

“I love you, Harry.”

“Beauty, oh, Beauty. I’m so fucking lucky to love you. I’m sorry for today.”

“Do you want to share with me?

Harry runs a hand through his hair. Y/N notices she’s propped up against something, maybe a lamp on the nightstand, as she can see both his hands picking at the ends of a t-shirt in his hand. It’s a faded blue, and Y/N recognizes it as a shirt of hers from Uni. She had no idea he snuck that in. 

He needed a piece of her with him as well. 

“It was a shitty day,” he breathes out. “I was ready to pull out of this deal because they weren’t respecting our requests. They wanted to go for the cheaper cost, but how we run our business is important, and while I was ready to jump ship, Mitch talked me down. We were there all day until we came to a compromise.  I felt drained when I got back to the hotel. I laid on the bed to sleep a bit, having set an alarm, but I slept through it. Called you as soon as I woke up.”

Y/N’s heart deflates, “you could have called me later. I would have understood.” 

“I already disappointed you. It couldn’t wait,” Harry tells her. 

“Thank you for apologizing.” Y/N watches Harry; he looks tired, but knowing him, he won’t hang up first. Y/N isn’t quite ready to let him go. He looks so good, his hair a mess, his swallow peeking under his shirt. Y/N misses the feel of his hands on her body. Misses the way he smells. Misses his hand in her hair. Y/N was lovesick. “It happens. Sure, I was disappointed, but I figured something happened. Long distance, I don’t know how people do it.” 

“For love.”

“Then you’re lucky I love you.”

“The luckiest,” he agrees.

Harry tells her a story about Sarah, how she’s checked in on him, reminding him to finish all his work quickly because he’s got someone waiting at home now. He tells her a story about his sister and how she recently got a new dog. It was so small, and little Pixie fell asleep in his arms. It seemed convincing him he needed a pet would be easier than she had imagined. 

As Harry tells her story after story, she feels overwhelmed with emotion. She misses him so much, but she also misses his touch. They’ve taken their relationship slowly. Y/N is not one to jump in right away because of past experiences, and Harry has taken that in stride. Y/N is waiting for him to come home so that he can love on her how they both deserve, but right now, Y/N knows just the thing to take the edge off for both of them.

“I’ve missed you. Missed how you’ve taken care of me,” Y/N breathes out.

Harry picks up on her change of tone. “Yeah, Beauty. Need me in between your legs to relax. Work keeps you busy. All you want is to be taken care of. Daddy can help with that.”

Y/N whimpers. Daddy is not something they ever discussed, but at this moment, it’s everything she needs. “I want Daddy to take care of me. Need it. Crave it.” 

Harry sighs, his cock swelling when hearing his beautiful girlfriend call him Daddy. He makes a mental note to talk about it tomorrow after they both have a good night’s rest. 

“Only a few more days, Baby.” Harry reminded her. “I promise to take care of you until you push me away until you can’t take it anymore.” 

“What would you do to me?” 

He had no idea this was where their phone call would lead, but fuck he’s ready. 

Y/N bites her bottom lip as she waits to hear what he says. 

“I’d lay you back on the bed, prop a pillow under your hips just how my Baby likes it. Spread your legs open, and I’ll see how wet you are waiting for me to touch you except, you know me, Beauty. I love to take my time,” he smirked when he saw her close her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her pouty lips. “I know you’re lying in my bed. Surrounded by my smell, I know you are soaked. I imagine you wearing pretty panties, maybe the yellow ones with bows on your hips.”

“What if I told you I don’t have any on?” 

Harry bites back a groan. “I’d ask you to show me your pretty pussy.” 

Y/N shakes her head, not one to easily give in. 

“I’d kiss your pretty thighs. I love it when you smother me between them as I lick you clean. Fuck,” he looks away for a second, and Y/N can only imagine what he’s doing. “I’m fucking hard thinking about you. Thinking about tasting you. How sweet you taste, I swear I’ve never had anything sweeter, Baby.” 

“D-d-daddy!” She pleads.

“I’d kiss right over your clit before licking you clean. You’re a messy girl. You can’t help it, baby, but that is why Daddy is here to help.” 

“Need more.”

Harry smirked; he knew Y/N was touching herself. He swears he can see how she moves her fingers in and out of herself. She’s so slick, and he knows he’d slip right in if he was home. “Baby, I would lick you until I felt satisfied, then I’d slowly trace two fingers around you. Start by pumping one in and out until you’d beg me for another. I know you can take it. You’re always such a good girl.” 

“It’s not enough,” she cries. Harry sees her hand moving, and fuck, he wants her to move the screen down, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from her face. The desire coursing through her, and sees her trembling, uneasy breaths and knows she’s close to coming for him.

“Daddy would give you everything you asked for, anything and everything.” Harry pumps his hand over his cock. “I’d keep going, curl my fingers in deep, letting your legs trap me in between your thighs. I’d suck your clit over and over again until you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” Y/N shouts. “Harry,” she repeats as she takes herself over the edge. 

“My sweet angel, you look so perfect coming for me. The sweetest sight. Wish I was there to lick your fingers clean. No need to waste something so yummy.” Y/N deflates a shy smile now on her face as what happened begins to set in. 

Y/N laughs. “Did that just happen?” 

“The come on my stomach is answer enough.” He teases. 

Y/N groans, “fuck me, Harry.” 

“Just say when.” He’s tempted to jump on a flight home, but a few more days is all he needs to wait.

The sweet look on Y/N’s face keeps him calm until he is back in her arms. Y/N is close to falling asleep; he can see how relaxed she is, and he hates having to hang up.

“I love you, honey,” she reminds him. “Hurry back, please.” 

“Hold on tight, Beauty. I’ll be home soon.” He blows her a kiss. “I love you.”

Those three words lull her to sleep.

+

Harry was finally home. He had been gone for three weeks, but it had felt like months. He ensured all his bags were packed and drove to Y/N’s apartment. 

He finds a parking space right in front. Harry excitedly makes his way upstairs. He knocks, knowing she has to be home, but after a few minutes of no answer, he realizes she’s not home. Heading outside, he checks if her car is parked but finds nothing. Instead, he calls her. She answers on the second ring.

“Hiya, honey,” she greets him cheerfully. 

“Beauty, I love hearing your voice.”

“You sap.” He knows she’s flustered. 

“Are you home?”

Y/N sighs on the line. “Hannah called out sick, and everyone needed me. Got a few more hours left. Are you all set to arrive tomorrow?”

Harry frowns; he had told her when he was coming in. She must have been too busy to even look at the date. Instead of correcting her, he promises to see her tomorrow. Harry tells her he loves her, waits for her to say it back, hangs up, and decides to prepare a special evening for her. 

He drives to the store and picks up the essentials. Orange wine (Y/N’s favorite) decides on ingredients for a pesto pasta that Y/N and he made a few days before he left, and both loved it. Harry rushes home and is pleased to find Y/N’s slippers by the door, meaning she will return here later. It’s a sign she had told him early on that if they’re by the door, it’s the first thing she wants to slip on. If they’re in the entrance closet, then it means she’s tidied up her items for him. 

Home. 

He was home, and soon, Y/N would be too. While away, it was nice to reunite with his family. His mum and sister told him to visit more, which he would do in the summer with Y/N. Work was work, and while he loved it, this trip kept him away from his Beauty for too long. Harry spent the next few hours doing his laundry, quickly showering, and preparing everything for a bath. Y/N loved lying there soaking up the heat and the smell of her bath bombs. 

As Harry stirred the pasta, the smell of pesto filled the room. He hums in delight as he hears the ring of the dryer where he had put Y/N’s blanket to warm to keep her nice and toasty after dinner. 

The front door opens. Harry quickly turns off the stove and lets the pasta sit while he waits for Y/N to greet him. He leans the kitchen entrance, staring at Y/N as she slips off her Mary Jane’s and throws her coat on the couch. 

Y/N walks by Harry, standing by the kitchen door. “Hi, honey,” she greets and walks by him. It seems she’s running on autopilot, not seeming to process he is back home. Y/N freezes in her tracks, turns around, and stares at Harry. He flashes her his dimpled smile, she had confessed it made her weak in the knees. “You’re home,” she whispers. 

He nods. “I’m home.”

“You’re home,” she repeats. 

Y/N runs into his waiting arms. He holds her tight, spinning her around as she presses kisses to the column of his neck. He sets her down, his heart close to beating out of his chest.

Harry squeezes her hips. Y/N is smiling up at him, and he feels like the luckiest man alive. Harry leans in, connecting their lips together. Her sweet lips welcomed him, and it was a feeling he never wanted to go without. The kiss has filled him up with so much love and longing. Harry promises to never go this long without Y/N by his side. He wasn’t made to miss her. He was made to stay by her side and love her. Y/N presses against him, making Harry stumble into the wall, but neither seems to mind being too lost in the kiss. Y/N knows she needs to breathe but finds it incredibly difficult to tear herself away. Harry does it for her but doesn’t go far. His lips brush against hers as they take in a deep breath. “I love you.”

He kisses her again.

“I love you too. So much. I love you. I’ll say it forever.” 

Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, and Harry knows she wants another kiss. He happily obliges. “Missed you. Missed you so much,” he mutters against her lips.

“Don’t leave again.” 

“Never again,” he promises. “Taking you wherever I go.” 

They spent a few more minutes holding each other, whispering “I love you” every few seconds. Y/N’s heart is back home, and she couldn’t be happier.  Harry gives her butt a few taps promising they could continue later, but he was going to set her up for a bath. Y/N pouts, “I’m supposed to take care of you. You just got home.”

He frowns in response, pinching her butt and making her jump into him. “You’re my baby. My sweet angel. I will always look after you.” Harry sees Y/N begin to melt, and he knows she’s giving in. “We’re starting with a bath, then having some pasta for dinner. Then we’ll go watch some telly in bed.”

“I love you” is her only response.

With a final kiss, Harry sends her off to get clothes in the bedroom while he prepares the bath. Y/N is happy to have Harry at home.

+

Y/N and Harry spent the night enjoying each other’s company. After dinner, they crawl into bed and hold each other tight. Y/N was independent, and she had been from a young age. She’d go to the movies alone, watching a new film. She’d go into the market alone for a quick snack while her brother always requested company. Y/N was comfortable with her own company. She liked who she was when she was with others but also when she was alone. 

Her partnership with Harry is something that surprised her. Her family always joked that she was high maintenance and that no one could lock her down because she was a free bird. Yet, she knew he was different from the moment she met Harry. Y/N was ready to walk away from him, but there was something special in Harry that she knew giving him a second chance would not be something she regretted. 

Y/N liked who she was when she was with Harry because he made her shine more than she did on her own. Harry always liked to tell her that all eyes turned to look at her when she walked into any room. Y/N didn’t believe it was accurate, but she was glad she captured his attention. 

In the morning, Y/N wakes up against Harry. Not a single space between them. Y/N laughed to herself because they drifted away most of the time. Harry always ran hot and slowly pushed away the covers while Y/N hugged them closer. Although they would always be touching each other. A hand on his stomach, one wrapped in her hair, or their legs intertwined. Yet, they managed to hold each other through the entire night; clearly, they both needed it. 

Y/N looked at the time and sighed. She had to prepare for work. She was tempted to call out but knew Hannah would still be out. She was careful to move away from Harry, wanting him to sleep in as much as he could when he gripped the end of her (his) shirt. “Stay,” he mumbled. 

Y/N sighed and ran her hand through his messy hair. “I’ve got to go in. If I skip lunch today, I can be out by one. Hmmm, I’ll do a half day,” Y/N compromised. “How does that sound?” 

“Like I’ll miss you.” 

She shakes her head. “I’ll see you at one.” 

“Love you, come give me a kiss goodbye.” 

Y/N leans down, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I will.” 

After a long kiss in bed, Y/N was on her way to work. Y/N thought of the man waiting for her at home, and she knew tonight would be special. 

+

Y/N’s promise to be out early was a bust as they had a new contract, and Y/N knew it was the priority. With a quick call apologizing to Harry, she quickly returned to running around the office. She had to talk to planners and directions. Thankfully, her assistant Kacey, who was becoming a quick learner the more time she spent by Y/N’s side. It made Y/N’s job go a lot smoother. 

“You can go home now, Kacey.” Y/N knew they should have left an hour ago, but she was swarmed with papers. She hoped Hannah was feeling better. Y/N could run this all on her own but did not want to.

“Ms. Y/N, we’ve got paperwork to send in,” the young girl responded. 

Y/N waved her in. She looked over, and it was a few signatures and two emails to send off about what they could provide for the upcoming Gala at the start of Summer. “It’s a Friday night. Please go out and enjoy it.” 

Kacey stares at Y/N with a pensive look, and Y/N knows the girl will not be leaving without her. 

“Fine. You email Mr. Cameron, letting him know he’ll be contacted on Monday with all they have planned for him. Then, from there, they’ll decide on a meeting time. I’ll manage Mrs. Cash’s change of theme. Twenty minutes?” 

“More than enough.” 

In record time, Y/N signs away one contract and makes a note to have their lawyer team revise the second. The email quickly gets done, and Y/N shuts down her computer. She won’t be back in until Tuesday, having requested a long weekend, weeks back when Harry told her the date he would be returning home. 

Kacey is slipping her coat on when Y/N turns to face her. “Ready?”  

“Yes.” 

Y/N and Kacey walk out of the office together, making small talk as they walk to their cars. 

Kacey is telling Y/N about her weekend plans. “My girlfriend is taking me to see Hamilton.”

“How lovely,” Y/N loves the soundtrack. “I fear I know all the words yet have never seen the actual play,” Y/N confesses.

“I’ll let you know if it’s any good.” 

They both know it will be.

Stopping in front of Y/N’s car, Kacey asks Y/N what she will do. 

“Harry came back last night, simply spending time together. Opening up whatever gift he got me,” Y/N jokes but knows he has to have accumulated more than a few while away from her. 

“Lovely, I’m surprised you came in,” Kacey shares honestly.

“Hannah being out was bad. We couldn’t make it two.” 

“That’s true. I’ve heard stories about Mr. Styles and you,” Kacey shares timidly. “All good things,” she’s quick to add. “Everyone thinks you’re a lovely pair.” 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. “Thank you. I’m fortunate.” 

Kacey bids her goodbye. “Ms. Y/N,” Kacey calls out, making Y/N turn back to look at her assistant. “Think he’s the lucky one.”

For that alone, Y/N will make sure Kacey takes Monday off, too. No need for an assistant if the boss is out. 

The drive to Harry’s house is calm for a late Friday night. The sun has set, and Y/N is ready to be in his arms again. She parks outside the garage and hurries inside. It’s a surprisingly lovely night for the end of Winter. She hangs her bag and slips on her brown teddy bear slippers, walking through the house trying to spot Harry. He knew she was coming home, the oven light on with what she assumed was their dinner. She can worry about food later. She wants a hug from her boyfriend. 

Y/N spots the porch light on and approaches the French doors. She spots Harry lying on a large blanket, a few pillows thrown around him. He has a book on his chest and a mug by his head. She pictured doing this with him in the summer, but it's perfect on a nice night like tonight. 

“Honey, I’m home.” 

He sits up in a rush, the book falls to the grass, forgotten, and he reaches his hands out for her. “Beauty, hi.” 

Y/N giggles as he pulls her to sit in his lap. His lips quick to meet hers, he kisses her as if she had been the one to be gone for three weeks and not a few hours. She moans against him as he slips his tongue in. Y/N, eager for more, pushes him back to lie on his back. Y/N breaks away to press kisses against his neck. Harry hisses as Y/N bites into his neck, but Y/N is quick to soothe it with a quick lick. 

“Welcome home,” he pants. 

Y/N shakes her head, giving him a final kiss before getting comfortable next to him. They look up at the sky together, and Y/N wonders if other lovers are looking up at the same sky at this very moment. 

“Do you think aliens exist?” Y/N asks while she traces the constellations she sees on his chest. 

“Probably. This world is too large to be just us.” 

Y/N nods, “Do you think Gods exist?”

“Like Poseidon?”

“He’s one of them.”

Harry ponders this for a second, he kisses the top of her head. “I-I hmmm… I’m not sure how to answer. I don’t think I’ve ever thought much of it.” 

“Eros is the son of Aphrodite, and his job is to help make love happen. Do you think he was a part of our story? Or was it simply fate?” Y/N isn’t sure what made her bring up this topic now, but she wants to know what Harry thinks. “We have all these ancient stories. We look up at constellations, and we know their stories. Many people will think of them simply as stories, but what if they were real people with real feelings, just like us.” 

Y/N moves around until she’s sitting on his thighs, and he moves into a sitting position with his hands resting on her ass. “I think we all have the choice to believe. Believe that there is something beyond us looking out for us, but some believe they make their own future. I like to think all my roads led to you.”

“Cheesy,” Y/N rolls her eyes, but he can see she’s flustered. 

“Whether Cupid struck me with an arrow or fate had set me on a course to you from the moment I was born, it led us here, loving each other wholeheartedly.”

“I love you, Harry Styles.” Y/N fists his shirt. “I hope to love you in every single lifetime.” 

“Our love is beyond us. It’s bigger than us.” 

Y/N is feeling overwhelmed. All her love was pouring out of her chest, and she could no longer express it. She did the next best thing and kissed him. Y/N feels time stop; her heart rate speeds up, but she only feels Harry. It’s as if they’re the only two people to exist. His hands tug her closer, Y/N sighs into his mouth, loving the closeness. She missed someone holding her while he was away, and now that he’s here, she no longer wants anything between them. 

Y/N rocks on top of him. She moves in a steady rhythm, enjoying the feeling of having him so close.

“Beauty,” Harry moans. 

“Mhm…”

“What are–” 

She interrupts him. “Make love to me.” Y/N places a soft kiss on his lips. 

Harry and Y/N had taken their relationship slow. They had to after the bad start because of Harry. He promised to be patient and understanding and had gone above and beyond. While they’ve given each other their fair share of orgasms, Harry is giving her much more. They never went beyond that. She could no longer wait, not when she loved and needed all of him. She felt like a part of her had gone missing with him gone for so long, but now she feels whole again. 

“Make love to me,” she repeats, staring into his eyes.

“Anything you want, Beauty. I’ll give you.” Harry brushes her hair out of her face, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Only want you.”

“You have me,” he promises. 

Harry and Y/N walk into the house, kissing against every wall. Y/N laughs as he bumps her against the railing of the stairs. Harry gives her ass a nice smack. “Head on up, sweet girl.” 

Y/N hurries to his bedroom while Harry gets water for both of them. When he gets to the bedroom, he finds Y/N sitting in the middle of the bed in her panties and bra. There is no mistaking what is happening tonight. 

Harry stands at the edge of the bed and beckons Y/N to come closer. She does so quickly, sitting back on the heel of her feet. 

“You sure about this, Y/N?” Harry checks in, needing to know where her head is at. 

“Yes, Harry. I think I’ve made you wait long enough.” 

Harry shakes his head. “Y/N, Beauty. Do not worry about me. I will wait forever for you. You have to know that,” he expresses. “You’re worth the wait. I would never dare push you, Beauty. Not for my own pleasure.” 

Y/N wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in tight for a hug. “I love you so much. Thank you.” 

Harry kisses her cheek. “I love you, baby.”

She leaned back to look at him, needing him to understand that she did want this. She wants everything with him. “Make love to me, Harry. Show me how good you can take care of me.” 

Harry runs his hands up and down her arms. He sees goosebumps all over her body as he places light kisses up her neck. His hand caressed her shoulders while the kisses spread to her jaw, the anticipation eating her alive. 

He kissed all the way up to her lips. As their lips met, she felt electricity shoot through her; his soft tongue parted her mouth and met hers. His hands now found home on her lower back, and he pulled her tight against his chest. The kiss deepened, and Harry began to lay her back. Y/N quickly accommodated, landing on the pillows and pulling Harry to land on top of her.

Harry’s hand reached her hip, caressing down her thigh. Y/N trembled, feeling his touch. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It’s beating fast, a nice reminder that she’s not the only one nervous. Their lips separated, and he looked into her eyes. Staring back at him, she nodded for him to continue. 

Y/N had helped by removing most of her clothes, but she left her bra and panties for Harry. He traced a finger lightly over the top of her breast. Y/N pushed her chest out, begging for more, but he continued to take his time. Y/N pushed him to sit up, and she followed shortly after. She grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, and he lifted it over his arms and head. She peeled it from his body and threw it onto the bedroom floor. Harry reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Y/N let the straps fall from her shoulders, the bra falling onto the bed, long forgotten. Y/N felt her face flush as she bared herself to him. She grinned as he took her in.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.” 

“Stop it.” 

Harry laughs, beckoning her over with a finger. “Come here.”  

They’re both kneeling on the bed, his hands on her hips. She puts her arms around his neck, and their chests pressed against one another. Her hands found their way to his shorts, but she made no move to take them off; instead, she stared down at his bulge. She wanted a taste, as always, but he laid her down before she could move down. Her nipples were hard, calling for his attention. He took one in his mouth and sucked gently, then took a slight nibble. Y/N gasped, her hand falling on his shoulder, her nails putting pressure as he moved to do the same to the other one. Y/N’s moans filled the room as Harry focused on her breast; his hand moved down to rub her through her panties. 

“Harry, please,” she begged. 

He smirked, grabbing the elastic running around her waist. Y/N lifted her hips as he slid the panties off. He threw them on the floor and took in Y/N’s beautiful body. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, but one place was calling his name. 

Harry gives Y/N a deep kiss on her lips and moves down her body. A kiss between her breasts, a trail of kisses down her stomach, a gentle kiss on her tattoo, down to her hips. He took a nip off her thighs before slowly beginning to lick Y/N’s pussy. He started slowly, letting Y/N get used to his tongue as he cleaned her up. Y/N’s moan got louder the more he kissed and sucked her juices. 

“Fuck, Harry. Please,” she pleaded. “I need more.” 

He knew exactly what she needed. Harry slipped a finger inside, moving it in and out as she got accustomed quickly, asking for a second. He was quick to comply, feeling her tense around him. To help her reach her orgasm, he sucked on her clit and curled his fingers, moving them in and out. 

Y/N moaned, her thighs tensing around Harry as she came around his fingers. He places gentle kisses on her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. Y/N laughs, running a hand through his curls. “You’re amazing.” 

He grins, slowly pulling his fingers out of her. He licks them clean while Y/N watches. Once he’s done, Y/N pulls him in for a kiss, not caring about the taste, simply needing him. 

She reaches out for him, “your turn.” 

Harry sighs, “Not tonight, baby.”

Y/N pouts. “Please?” 

“Promise I’m more than ready. I need to feel you. I want to be close to you.” 

Y/N couldn’t say no to that. 

Harry discards his shorts and pumps himself spreading his precum over his cock. Y/N moans at the sight in front of her. Harry has always been beautiful, but he looked eternal right now. She can see how thick he is and can’t wait to make love to him.  Y/N knows she’s ready for him. He rolled toward the nightstand and reached into the drawer. He pulled out a condom, but Y/N went to stop him before he could open it. 

“I’m clean,” she breathed out.

“Y/N,” he starts, but she interrupts him. 

“I want it. I’m on birth control. If you want the condom, we can, but this is what I want.” Y/N expressed. “What you want matters too.” 

Harry was clean, he had his check-ups, and he was good. There was something so comforting about having the choice together, but his answer was clear: he wanted to feel all of her with nothing in between. 

He tossed the condom away. “I’m clean, Beauty. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Y/N laid back down, and Harry positioned himself between her legs. After a silent conversation to check she was okay, he slowly slid inside. He pushed through, and Y/N let out a deep moan. He lowered his body onto hers and held her. He slowly pushed in until the rest of his cock was inside. He stilled, letting Y/N get used to the fullness. Y/N was wet, making it easy for him to pull out and slide back in, but he went in small steps to not overwhelm Y/N. 

“I’m ready. Give me more.” 

With the okay, he began to thrust in and out, her moans getting louder and longer. It felt so good being this close. Y/N was overwhelmed, but this was everything she wanted. She began to lift her hips into his thrusts, ramming her clit into the hilt of his cock. They rocked together, on and, for what felt like hours. 

“Fuck, baby. You were made for me,” he groaned. “My perfect angel.”

Rocking against his every thrust, she ran her nails down his back as he moved faster. She was close to coming. Y/N told him she needed more, just a bit more; he knew exactly what to do as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. She could not contain the shouts and moans as her orgasm rushed through her. 

Y/N screamed his name over and over as the feeling of pleasure rushed through her. As Y/N was coming down from the high, she could feel how hard Harry was still and knew they weren’t done. Not that she wanted to be. 

She sat up with his help, grabbed his shoulders, and guided him down onto his back. Y/N climbed onto him and straddled his cock. She reached down and guided his cock into her pussy. He slipped in slowly as Y/N took him all in again. She rocked her hips back and forth once she settled on top of him. His hands reached up to rest on her hips. Y/N’s moans urged him to keep going. 

“So pretty, rocking on my fucking cock.”

“Harry,” she cried. 

Her moans were perfect. Everything he wished for and more. 

“Fucking perfect. This cock is all yours. Yours to fuck.” 

Harry was filthy in bed, everything she fucking wanted. Yes, it started sweet and romantic, his touches were still gentle and filled with love, but he was fucking her and loving her. Y/N let Harry rock her up and down, allowing him to use her body for his release. Y/N knew no matter what he did, she was going to come with him. Harry helped Y/N lift herself up and down on his cock. Y/N’s eyes were closed, and she moaned softly each time she rocked all the way back.

“So close, baby. So fucking close to coming in you.” 

“Fill me up,” she breathed. 

Harry felt himself tightening. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He was going to come in Y/N; he was going to fill her up. Y/N kissed him. It was hot, their tongues fighting for dominance, he easily let her win as his hands tangled in her hair, and he fucked into her pushing her to her final orgasm of the night. Harry groaned against her mouth as he let himself go against her walls. Y/N sighed against him as her orgasm ran through her like a wave. She felt light and in love. Y/N had made him wait to be ready, but she knew it was worth it.

He valued her as a person. Her opinions meant something to him. Y/N knew he loved her for who she was as a person, not only her looks.

Y/N parted their lips but didn’t move away. “I love you, Harry. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Harry laughed against her, his cheeks flushed at her gentle words. He squeezed her tight to his chest, kissing her wherever he could: her cheek, neck, shoulder, and lips. “I love love you.” 

They held each other, letting warmth wash over them, whispering “I love you” and sweet promises of the future together. It’s everything they wanted and more.

After Harry helped her clean up and took a steaming hot shower together, they settled under the covers, ready to call it a night. Harry had put the TV on, knowing Y/N liked having background noise to fall asleep to, but she wasn’t sleeping. She was content to watch time go by. Harry traced shapes on her bare stomach while she tried to bite back a giggle, though one escaped every few minutes. Her nipples were hard, and if Harry kept going, he would be getting her ready for another round. 

“Are you ready for the Gala season?” Y/N asked. “We’ve got the last weeks of winter before you have to share my time.” 

“Not going to happen,” he kissed her bare shoulder. “Speaking off, you’ve got dresses arriving from Paris in a few weeks. Called in a few favors, your favorite designers only. A special piece from Daniel Roseberry. I know Schiaparelli is your favorite.” 

“What am I going to do with you?” Y/N teased, knowing it was no use fighting against him. It was one of the ways he showed he loved her. There was no stopping him. Plus, this would be something she treasured. She’d look after these dresses, hoping one day to pass them down to the generations in her family. 

“Love me?” Harry smiled. 

Loving him is the easiest thing she will ever do in life.

+ + +

thank you for reading, sweet angel 🫶

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.” They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Comfort Zone

Summary: Being shy was always a problem, but when Negan expresses interest in you, you have to step outside of your comfort zone in order to get the one thing you have wanted for years.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person). 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49606555

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, masturbation, just filth really, etc.

Notes: I asked for people to give a me a few ideas to write something short and quick...I was given the reader is shy and she is finally bold enough to take what she wants. So here it is. Hope you like it. @murphslass

What were you supposed to do when you were shy and the object of your desires was one of the most charismatic people you had ever met? That was something you could never quite figure out when it came to Negan.

Toward the beginning of when the world started to fall to shit, you were one of the first people that Negan had found with The Sanctuary. And you were loyal. Very loyal. But you were incredibly shy. It was a problem that you had since you were younger. Anyone who knew Negan would have known that he was the complete opposite. So when you were at The Sanctuary, it was really hard to stand out. Especially when you were around him. The biggest problem was that you always had a thing for Negan. Add that in with your shyness and that meant that you were never able to tell him. So you kind of just disappeared into the background. It was the small interactions that you appreciated. But it was never much.

When Alexandria defeated The Sanctuary, they brought you in with open arms. Hell, you were just someone living at The Sanctuary at the time. It didn’t hurt coming to Alexandria knowing that Negan was still here. While it terrified others to know that he was still living there, you found comfort in it. And when they started giving Negan more duties around Alexandria, allowing him to be outside his cell you were happy for him.

On occasion you would be the person that would bring him his meals, but you were still too shy to make small talk with Negan. Considering you had the hots for him for years it made things awkward for you. Even when he himself was trying to talk to you, you found yourself turning away. And as of late he was trying quite a bit. You assumed it was because he was lonely, you just didn’t find the strength you needed to talk back much.  

Here you were again. Standing outside the door to his cell holding onto one of the platters carrying his lunch. Trying to coach yourself to finally say something and create some small talk between the two of you, you bit down on your tongue and sighed. Today was the day.

Carefully turning the knob to the door, you pushed open the door and felt your heart skip a beat when you stopped your movements. Laying stretched out across his small bed in his cell was Negan with his pants down at his hips and his shirt pushed up toward the middle of his chest. His long fingers were curled around his swollen cock while he was jerking off. Immediately you thought of turning around and letting him have his moment, but at that moment he didn’t notice that you were there. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed shut tightly. He was biting down on his bottom lip trying to stifle the faint, raspy moans that were still falling from his throat no matter how hard he was trying to hide them. His left was wrapped around the base of his erection while his right stroked over his solid manhood.

“Fuck…” Negan growled out and hearing him like that made a chill run down your spine. In all the time that you had known Negan of course you had pictured something like this. It was like something out of your own dreams, but you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

Something that resembled a whine fell from Negan’s throat and his lips parted. Soft pants were falling from him and it brought attention to the bulging vein at the side of his neck. You didn’t know where to look. Did you watch the pleasure that was flooding his sexy features while he jerked off or did you focus on his surprisingly nice cock that was throbbing in his grasp?

Another moan fell from Negan’s throat, his hips arching up toward his caress bringing your attention to his cock again. Your throat went dry looking at it. It was thick, with prominent veins running up and down the shaft. It was lengthy and the way he was caressing his fingers over his body drew attention to the mushroom shaped tip. Negan had a very nice dick and it did leave you surprised to see. Especially with the arrogance. When people were often cocky like Negan, it wasn’t very likely that they had something to match that ego, but he did.

His breathing grew louder, his hand moving faster over his body with his hips bucking up toward his grasp. Desperate pants were filling the air from his parted lips and you felt your heart racing at the sight. His left hand released the base to caress up and over his slender abdomen toward his chest. His raspy moans grew stronger alerting you to the fact he was about to come, but right as he was about to, he tipped his head back and his eyes opened.

Once Negan saw you, his eyes grew wide, your name falling from his parted lips when the first line of his cum shot out from the tip covering his lower abdomen and a few more ropes of cum followed. Jolting his body, Negan turned away from you. The muscles in his small bottom flexing when his orgasm clearly continued.

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking hell,” Negan’s worried breaths were followed with involuntary moans while he tried to pull up his pants. Breathlessly, Negan eagerly reached for the tissues in attempts to clean himself up. Maybe you should have turned away, but your body was frozen. Standing up from the bed, you saw that Negan’s cock was still twitching after its release and he was swiftly trying to push it back beneath the material of his boxer briefs before working together his pants. “I am so fucking sorry. I am so…so sorry.”

Curling your fingers around the platter that they had put his lunch on, you lowered your eyes and heard Negan’s labored breathing still filling the air. Lifting your gaze, you saw that he was standing at the bars of his cell, his fingers curled around them while his hazel eyes stared out at you.

“Shit,” Negan looked down toward the center of his pants and he adjusted his hips showing that the material was still straining to his body. Huffing out, Negan’s eyebrows furrowed and he raised his eyes back up to yours. There were goosebumps over your arms and even if it made you a pervert, you were incredibly turned on. “I swear I didn’t know you were coming down here,” a laugh fell from his throat when he shook his head, “I thought I would be the only one coming down here.”

Licking your lips, you headed to set the platter down at the edge of the bars and there was an amused smirk over Negan’s handsome features. That was obviously a joke he was trying to drop to lighten the mood, but you didn’t react at all.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just bringing you your meal and I…” you began finding it hard to keep eye contact with Negan. Hell, he caught you red handed watching him jerking off. You were embarrassed to say the least.

“I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting to see,” Negan cleared his throat uncomfortably, his dimples sinking in while he stared out at you. “I usually hear people coming down the stairs, but I guess I was in the middle of the act and I wasn’t thinking.”

“I totally understand,” you waved your hand about not sure of what to say when Negan brushed his fingers through his damp hair. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

A faint chuckle fell from Negan’s throat and you damned yourself for saying something so stupid. Shaking your head, you started to backstep toward the door assuming that he thought you were an idiot for saying what you did.

“Hey,” Negan called out once you made it to the door. Stopping, you kept your head down before gazing back over your shoulder at him. “Did you enjoy what you saw?”

There was curiosity in Negan’s eyes when you turned to face him and your hand was still holding onto the doorknob ready to run away like all the times before.

“Because it was you I was thinking about,” Negan slurred, his long eyelashes fluttering while staring out at you.

“Don’t fuck with me,” you breathed out with a long sigh knowing that was likely the furthest thing from the truth. “You weren’t thinking about me. You hardly even know me. I’m the least noticeable person around.”

“I’m not fucking with you. And fuck, I happen to disagree with you,” Negan spoke up, his eyes narrowing. “You always stood out. Even at The Sanctuary you stood out to me. So that’s bullshit.”

“You knew I was there?” you questioned hearing Negan let out a half laugh, his head tipping to the side. Sure, the two of you had talked a few times at The Sanctuary, but you always felt like a loner there. “You would have never known it.”

“No, because I wasn’t flirting with you all the time trying to test out if you would have been comfortable being one of my wives or anything,” Negan snorted, his eyebrows arching when you lowered your hands at your sides. “At first, I thought you didn’t like me because you were always running off and shit. So I never asked. But after seeing you right now, I don’t think that’s the case. You’re fucking shy, aren’t you?”

Searching for the right words to say, you had nothing and it made you sigh when Negan started to speak up again, “What’s not to like? You’re beautiful, you’re loyal, you’re kind…you just need to step outside your comfort zone a little. I saw the way you were looking at me, why never make your move?”

“I uh…I have to go,” you felt your face flushing over and you stepped back toward the stairs hearing Negan calling out your name but at this point you were too embarrassed to speak. So you did what you did best and ran away.

Later that day you were out late working around Alexandria and you saw Negan was being shadowed by Brandon. Once Negan spotted you, he spoke to Brandon about something and he headed over toward you from where you were working on gardening duty.

“Hey,” Negan uttered, reaching to pull the hat he was wearing from his head. Pushing his fingers back through his hair, Negan cleared his throat and tossed his hands up after he put his hat back on. “I was thinking…maybe the next time you come down to give me one of my meals, maybe you can stay. We can talk. Get to know one another or some shit. It can be like a first date. That is if you’re interested.”

“Really?” you breathed out, resting back on your knees and Negan nodded his head. While that sounded nice, you knew you were shy and would likely turn him off by acting that way. Especially after he told you earlier that you needed to step outside of your comfort zone. “I don’t know Negan.”

“Am I reading everything wrong?” Negan wondered, waving his hands about and his facial expression twisting. “Was I wrong about things? If that’s the case I just made a total ass of myself today, didn’t I? I am so sorry.”

“Hey…” you called out to him when Negan shook his head and held his hands up.

“You know what? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this whole flirting thing and maybe I’m rusty,” Negan backstepped toward the large amounts of laundry they had him doing. “Just ignore my idiot self and…I’m so sorry. About earlier, about this…don’t worry about it.”

By the time you finally had the courage to even speak up again Negan was already headed back toward the laundry and you cussed to yourself. Why couldn’t you just fucking say something? Negan was everything you wanted. Instead of heading back over there, you just kept up with your work and damned yourself for being this shy. Negan was saying everything you could ever want to hear earlier, why couldn’t you just believe it?

When night fell and the only light that was still available was that coming from the houses and the moon that was shining bright, you could see that Negan was still out finishing the laundry that he had been drying out all day. Sitting on the steps from the porch of the home you lived in, you watched him. It looked like Brandon had left for some reason.

Getting up from the steps, you made your way toward the laundry that Negan was taking down. Negan tossed another sheet into the pile that he had behind him that he would fold after he got them down from the lines. It was like a maze of sheets blowing in the wind when you approached Negan from behind.

“Negan,” you called out his name and he looked back over his shoulder at you. Turning on his heel, his hazel eyes were confused when you approached him. Grabbing a tight hold of the blue button down they had him wearing, you tugged him down toward you and claimed his lips in a forceful kiss. Stumbling forward, Negan groaned against your lips sending a vibration through them that made you moan.

“Whoa,” Negan breathed out when you pulled away. His tongue dragged out across his bottom lip and he smiled. Stroking your fingers over the back of his neck, you curled the longer hair at the bottom his neck around them before firmly shoving into Negan. Gasping out, Negan grumbled when he fell into the pile of sheets and clothes that he had tossed behind him. In a way, you two were hidden by the sheets that were still hanging from the lines. Adjusting his body, Negan watched when you carefully kicked out of your shoes, your fingers sliding in over the button of your jeans. Pulling it apart, Negan’s eyes watched carefully when you pushed them down your legs. “What are you doing?”

“Stepping out of my comfort zone. I’ve always wanted you Negan. I’ve just been too damn shy to take what I want, but I’m sick of that,” you muttered knowing that after what you had seen earlier with Negan it had left you aching in the worst possible of ways. “Seeing you earlier touching yourself like that turned me on more than you will ever know.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s breathing grew louder when you hooked your fingers into your panties pushing them down along with your jeans. Bravery was not something that came normally to you, but right now you were being bold because you wanted Negan and you wanted him bad.

Lowering down, you crawled in over Negan and eagerly reached for his belt to pull it apart, “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I make a fool of myself.”

“No, I want this. I want this a lot,” Negan responded reaching down to help you get his pants open. While you worked at the material, Negan reached for your shirt to pull it from your body and toss it aside. “I can’t promise you I’m going to last entirely too long because it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I will fucking try.”

“Good, because I have no idea where that little creeper Brandon is and the last thing we need is him watching us,” you felt your heart hammering inside of your chest with Negan’s lips kissing down over your chest with his fingers reaching around you in attempts to unhook your bra. Managing to get Negan’s pants down his hips, you crawled in over Negan and grabbed a hold of his semi-erect cock. “You’ve just left me aching all day after what I saw you doing earlier and if I don’t have you inside of me right now, I might combust.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” Negan slurred, his head tipping back when your free hand reached to push the baseball cap that he was wearing from his head. His hair was messy and it was dark, but you could still see the longing in his eyes amongst the moonlight. Once Negan got your bra unhooked, he helped pull the material from your body before his large hands reached up to cup your breasts in a tender squeeze. “God, you are so fucking beautiful. Y’know that?”

Caressing over Negan’s cock fueled you more than you could ever imagine. Just having him grow solid in your grasp had your core throbbing with a fire growing in the pit of your belly. Lifting up just enough, Negan managed to get his button down off before swiftly working to get his t-shirt from his body. Bringing the two of you closer together, you felt the hairs from his chest tickling at your breasts and it made you hum with approval.

“Brandon is eating by the way. The little shit seems to trust me enough to finish what I have to finish,” Negan explained, his kisses trailing up over the side of your neck, over your jawline and toward your lips. Each brush of his lips over yours felt incredible and you couldn’t help but purr when he moaned against your kiss when he was fully solid in your grasp. Working your hand carefully between the two of you, you traced the swollen tip of Negan’s cock between your folds and his mouth pulled from yours. Looking between the two of you, Negan sucked at his bottom lip while you tugged your fingers through his dark hair. Adjusting over his body, you led his length toward your wet pussy taking him inside of you with an eagerness that neither one of you were expecting. Both of you moaned out as you lowered your hips down over him wanting to feel all of him inside of you. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet. This is still from earlier?”

“Be quiet,” you instructed hooking your arms around his shoulders and bracing your knees to give you balance when you started rocking your hips over his length in enthusiastic movements. Shakily, Negan’s hands braced at your hips while his eyes connected with yours. “We don’t need people coming out here and seeing us like this.”

“Would that embarrass you?” Negan wondered, his squared jaw flexing while you enjoyed the way his body filled and stretched you. It had been so long since you were with someone and having Negan of all people inside of you fueled you all the more.

“No,” you shook your head, your lips hovering over his while you bounced steadily over his cock making him faintly moan against your flesh. “The only person’s opinion I care about here is you. I don’t care if someone sees me riding your big cock. I just don’t want you getting in trouble for it.”

“Fucking hell,” Negan winced while your tight canal clung to his throbbing erection. Burying his nose against the side of your neck, Negan did his best to stay quiet. Your fingers caressed over the long planes of his shoulders and toward his neck enjoying having him close like this. “You feel so fucking good.”

Crying out, you knew that you were desperate to make some kind of noise but knew you couldn’t. Now that Negan was inside of you, you never wanted him to leave. It felt that good with how hard he was. Pausing for a moment when you dropped down, your hips shook and you felt his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“It was such a shame seeing you waste all of that cum earlier,” you muttered hearing Negan’s moan follow, his head tipping back to stare out at you with awe. It was obvious that what you said had shocked him, but he liked it. “I would have much preferred that it was me that you were pumping all of that cum into.”

“You’re dirty,” Negan mused with a smirk, his palms sliding up the lengths of your abdomen toward your breasts to caress over them. Your hips were trembling feeling him stagnant inside of you, but you wanted to remember exactly what it felt like having him solid, filling you, touching you and looking at you with so much desire. “You may be shy, but you’re not innocent in the least, are you?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” you purred tipping your head back when he lowered his head down to take your breast into his mouth. Lapping his tongue at your nipple Negan sucked faintly at the flesh before moving toward the other breast to do the same. Firmly grasping to your hips, Negan adjusted the both of you and planted his feet so he could start smacking up against you again and again. Wet sounds filled the night air and there was a cool brisk to it causing chills to flood your body.

“I just want you to be mine,” Negan alerted you knowing that neither one of you were really being as quiet as you should have been. You felt full with Negan’s cock inside of you. Your fingers were digging into his chest, possibly breaking the skin, you couldn’t see that well in the dark. But Negan seemed to be enjoying it. Rolling you over onto your back, Negan crawled in over you and reached for your wrists. Urging them up, he pushed them into the pile of clean clothes that were beneath you. There was a bit of strength with his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists, but you liked it. Pounding into you with reckless abandon, Negan hovered his lips over yours and he kept his eyes locked on you wanting to watch every reaction you had to him fucking you. “I’d really love to come down your throat one day, but since you are so desperate to have a pussy full of my cum, I’d really hate to let you down.”

“You better make me come first,” you hummed and a wicked smirked tugged at the corners of his lips. Lowering down in closer to you, he adjusted his body so that the two of you were pressed up against each other. The weight of him over you felt incredible when he released your wrists and reach down to pull your hips up closer to his. Rolling his hips in calculated movements had your body arching toward his. The change in position had his groin rubbing up against yours with every plunge and pull his cock made inside of you. It brought forth an incredible amount of friction over your clitoris while the swollen tip of his cock was hitting your g-spot in all the right ways.

“That won’t be a problem,” he breathed out with a smug expression, his lips covering yours again and it was a smart decision because it was going to be hard to hide the sounds that you were starting to make. This wasn’t a way to draw things out. No, this was a way for him to make you come and come fast. Your body bounced upward with every thrust he made, but you clung tightly to him. Kissing Negan was intoxicating. It enhanced everything that much more. You weren’t used to this kind of deep penetration, but he was doing a hell of a job proving to you why you made the right decision tonight. “Think of all the orgasms you could have been having if you would have just made your move at The Sanctuary. This dick could have been yours this whole time.”

“It’s mine now,” you panted against Negan’s lips, an amused rumble vibrated against your mouth when he nodded. “And I want it inside of me as much as possible.”

“I won’t fight you on that darlin’,” Negan mused with an arch of his eyebrow when you brought him in closer to you so you could silence your moans with his kisses again. A rushing ache flooded to your head and you tried your best not to pull away from Negan’s kisses. Negan’s thrusts were fast at this point hitting everything just right enough to make your hips pull away from him. Biting into your bottom lip, you closed your eyes and felt everything shaking. Your body grew hot and you couldn’t believe just how good Negan delivered. “Well fuck, I’m going to have to be doing these clothes again tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologized feeling Negan’s long fingers tracing lines over your wet sex after he had just drawn you to come and come hard. “I didn’t know I was capable of that.”

“You’re going to be having a lot of those now, so get used to them,” Negan’s fingers circled your sensitive clitoris before reaching back for his throbbing cock to let it enter you again. Teasing his lips over yours, Negan smiled and a wicked chuckle fell from his throat. “Never apologize for having those kind of orgasms. Ever. These clothes were doomed in the first place. I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum and I come a lot.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you curled your fingers around Negan’s neck, leading him back to you and in no time, he was back at pounding inside of you. “Fill me up.”

“I’m almost there,” Negan alerted you, his moans growing more frequent. Having Negan use your body in a way to bring out the most intense amount of pleasure for him brought forth so much joy for you. You felt him throbbing inside of you, but also at the same time you heard movement. “Fuck…”

Stretching his arm out, Negan grabbed one of the sheets that was hanging and yanked on it hard enough to bring it down. Pulling it in over the two of you, the sound of movement didn’t stop Negan’s incredibly powerful thrusts. His head tipped back, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when his thrusts started to falter with the way that he was moving. Crying out, you tipped your head back feeling the pulsating of his hard cock inside of you. It was followed by the warmth of his cum filling you and God did it feel good. You asked and Negan was delivering.

With his forehead pressed to yours, it felt like the world was spinning and he still kept up with his movements until the very end making sure that he filled you with every drop of his release. Laying over you, Negan kissed over the side of your neck and you held onto him loving the sounds of him breathing heavily.

“Negan?” a voice called out making Negan turn his head to see that Brandon was pushing through the sheets. When he saw the two of you together it made Brandon’s eyes immediately drop. “Oh shit. I am so sorry. Are…you…okay?”

“I’m fine,” you went to move, but Negan shook his head and hushed you. Negan was still very much inside of you, but you were surprised that he wasn’t at all worried with Brandon standing over you like that.

“Listen, kid…” Negan grumbled, his breathing still loud enough for him to have to pause while he was talking. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to have sex. Do you think I can bring this beautiful woman with me to my cell so we can finish up? I promise to have her out by sunrise. In fact, I will be ready to finish all of this in the morning.”

“Negan, you know I’m not supposed to do that,” Brandon’s eyes shifted before letting out a tight breath. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“Thanks kid. You’re a real lifesaver,” Negan gave an arrogant bob of his head and motioned Brandon to turn around. “Could you…”

“Of course,” Brandon immediately turned around and Negan was careful in the way that he managed to bring you up with him, keeping his cock still inside of you when he wrapped the sheet around the both of you to hide your naked bodies as much as possible.  

“I know this is a lot, but could you bring our clothes to my cell?” Negan requested back stepping slowly to bring you with him. Thankfully you weren’t that far away from his cell, but it was incredibly awkward still being pressed body to body with him with his cock inside of you. Getting down the stairs was the hardest part. His release was felt escaping somewhat as you both tripped down onto the small cot that he had. With the noise it made, you were surprised that it didn’t break.

“Try to be quiet, okay?” Brandon requested dropping the clothes that he had picked up for both of you at the corner of the cell. “And if you get caught, I didn’t do this.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking champ kid,” Negan muttered when Brandon closed the door behind him when he left and Negan’s snicker fell from his throat. There was a small lantern at the corner of his cell giving more light to it than there was outside. “That kid hero worships me for some reason. They thought they were punishing me by putting that kid on me, but he really would let me get away with everything.”

“Is there a reason you made us walk back to the room with your cock still inside of me?” you pondered seeing the arrogant smirk tug at Negan’s lips. Getting up carefully, Negan finally pulled his now softening length from your body watching the pool of his cum pour out of you. Collecting some of it over his fingertips, Negan pushed his fingers back inside of you to coat the walls of your pussy with it. It made you whimper and tip your head back. “Negan…”

“I wanted to see your pussy full of my cum,” Negan informed you using some of the cum that had pushed out to stroke it back and forth over the lengths of your sex. “Plus, I liked watching you squirm with my cock inside of you and a stranger near.”

“You’re crazy,” you noted with a purr noticing the way that Negan drew shapes over your lower abdomen after he pulled his fingers from your sensitive body.

“But you like it,” Negan commented, his wolfish smile expanding over his handsome features. “I also was able to buy us some time until morning. Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be able to add to what’s already inside of you. That’s if you’re interested of course.”

“I won’t tell you no,” you reached for him, pulling him in over you on the small cot. Adjusting his weight, Negan made sure to lay over you in a way that kept you comfortable while he stroked his fingers over the side of your face. Peppering faint kisses at your lips made Negan hum with a happy smirk tugging at his lips. “Although this is pretty nice too.”

“So you’re both a romantic and a freak,” Negan teased with a wink, nuzzling his nose in against yours while he laid in over you. “That’s good to know because I am too. And I’ll happily cuddle you for as long as possible because I live for this kind of shit doll. You have made my fucking day. I hope you know that.”

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[incognito-duo]

D'you ever think that Rio Morales looks at her son and thinks "when did you get so tall?" She knew that it would happen but it happened too fast, suddenly Rio has to buy new shoes and clothes for her ever growing boy. She smiles as she watches her husband happily make lunch boxes for him. "He's finally appreciating my chef expertise!" Jeff claims triumphantly. "I'm not sure if making a basic sandwhich and cutting apples are exactly chef expertise, amor." Rio teases, earning a side glance from her husband. She cackles. "Oh please, I know you're a good cook! I'm just happy he's eating, es demasiado flaco."

D'you ever think Rio sees how Miles' freckles become more apparent as he's older, how the sparse dots are not exact replicas of hers, but definitely taking after her? She sees the young man take after her lithe and slender form - maybe Miles will be lean like his mama, with her sassy side eye and pursed lips or her loud, lovely laughter. He likes that they both roll their eyes dramatically, how they both talk fast when they're passionate but seem to get comfortable in awkward lulls in conversation when nervous, how their fake laughs are always higher pitched than their real ones so he knows which jokes land. At the very least, Jeff hopes that Miles will be more like Rio. He sees so much good in his wife, his lover, his everything perfect in this world.

He thinks about how he took the chance of moving out of his "dad's" place with Aaron as soon as he got into college. Leaving the old man in his lonely place in Harlem, he didn't care if he had to wake up early to drop off Aaron to high school, he'd do it. It's not like his dad ever did it anyway when they lived with him. He was a boulder of a guy, but he hadn't really built up as much muscle as he has now at the time. Skittish, quiet, glasses - then gorgeous and confident nursing major Rio Morales came into his life and he never wanted to take someone else's last name so fast. She was like a beacon of light, specifically when things got rocky between him and Aaron. Jeff hopes Miles becomes more and more like Rio every day.

But Rio can't help but insist it's him that Miles looks more like. "He's got your forehead!" She explains, reassuring Jeff that that's a good thing. Yes, Miles and Jeff had the same forehead, the same tight curls, same full lips that would go in a deep frown when he's shocked, eyes bulging as he moves his head back and revealing a double chin (she thought it was so cute and funny.) They had the exact same smug smirk and hooded eyes when they're correct, they both had a dorky way of giggling when they were flustered, all snorts and giggling. She thinks about how their voices breaks every time they're emotional cus they're men who aren't scared to feel but still scared to show it - and with how Miles has been growing? "He'll be a giant like you, I know it!" She laughs as Jeff shakes his head.

But something in Jeff's heart aches when he sees that Miles busts a move in triumph like Aaron does, or how he smirks all charmingly when he talks to a girl - just like his lil brother back in high school. Jeff knows how Aaron's footsteps sound like when he's sneaking back into the house too late so he always catches Miles cus they sound the same. He feels something in him break when Miles smiled at him and he noticed that he got the same dimples as Aaron. What's he supposed to do when the boy walks like he's confident but too scared to really confident. He's too much like Aaron; what is Jeff supposed to do when he finds spray paint finger prints on his son's clothes just like he does when he does Aaron's laundry- oh.

He did Aaron's laundry. On Earth-42, Aaron has to remind himself of that when he sees Miles redo the laundry he folded just like how Jeff used to do. Those same hands always fiddling with something, quickly spinning his pencil while doing math problems, he's got that patient but firm tone when he explains carefully to Aaron whatever he did in Applied Physics just like how Jeff would help him with fractions as a kid. Miles G walks with his back too straight, and just like Jeff, he jumps ropes with the line that's between being endearing and being awkward when he talks to a girl. His nephew has that same, tired, far-off look in his eye that Jeff used to have, that same flickering ember that's awake enough to get up and do something right and it makes Aaron's blood run cold in fear every time he sees Miles G jump off a building too high or swing around too fast. He's too much like Jeff.

"Is he? I think he's sorta like you." Rio muses to Aaron in Earth 42. "He's all lanky like you, and likes going out late at night doing God knows what." She scoffs.

"He's doing good things, always studying and being a smartass like you." Aaron assures his sister-in-law. The two were never close, mere strangers, but a unlikely friendship had grown in the absence of Jeff; Rio had become a sort of big sister to Aaron, and he couldn't help but feel like he needed someone to guide him, even at his big age.

"He better." She pouts. In Earth 1610, Rio was telling Jeff the same thing. I mean, in every universe, Miles was their baby boy. "He's gotta have the best of us, right?"

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 5

Part 4 / AO3 Link

"It's not even about what they say, I mean it is, it's more about how they say it", Eddie said over the phone. He was in the process of making himself dinner while Steve was on the line.

"Like what?", Steve asked, in the middle of making Shawn's lunch for the next day.

"Like, today Alex said 'barbecue is my favorite' and Brian was like 'your mom!' Like what? What does that even mean, Steve? I ask you, what does that mean?"

Steve laughed on the other end. "Well you know how memes work, right?"

"I'm offended you would ask that."

"I just mean it sounds like that. They're passing around a joke until it mutates and now just saying the phrase, regardless of context, is a joke."

"You're brilliant, you know that?"

"So I've been told~"

"Hey, you're making Shawn's lunch now, right? You know what would be funny?"

"Your sense of humor frightens me", Steve said.

"You tell me everything inside, and then I tell Shawn and act like I'm guessing. It'll blow his mind."

"You're ridiculous", Steve said with a shake of his head. But he ended up telling Eddie anyway.

When he went to bed that night, he dreamt of the day Shawn was born again. But this time it was less sights and smells and more sounds as an alpha rumbled close to his ear.

"You're doing great, beautiful."

"Bet your pup's gonna be the cutest..."

He woke up, feeling slightly disoriented as he remembered that he wasn't a new parent, that Shawn wasn't an infant, and that Billy wasn't sleeping beside him. He released a relieved sigh at that last part and got ready for the day.

Both he and Eddie got really busy as winter break began to near and Eddie wondered if it would be too forward to ask Steve out during the break. For all he knew, Steve might have plans to travel during it. But then again, that sounded like all the reason to ask him out before he went too long without seeing him again.

They talked just about every other night though. And try as they might, the conversation always veered to their students and the goings on of their work lives at school.

"Should you be telling me all of this? As a parent?", Steve asked one night. He was curled up on the couch, tv low in the background.

"As a parent, no", Eddie admitted. "But if you were my boyfriend.... then you'd have access to all the hot elementary gossip."

"....Did you just try and seduce me with student gossip?"

"Don't you wanna know which girl in my class has a crush on Shawn?", Eddie tempted.

Steve let out a long drawn out sigh. "You know I do. But I also think that we should have more dates under our belt before we start calling ourselves boyfriends."

"What have all these calls been?"

"Just talks?"

"Stevie, I call you more than anyone. I think in the past few weeks I've called you more than the rest of my phone contacts all year."

"...Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Nope."

Steve chewed his lip a little before going on. "Come over for dinner. Just you and me, I'll send Shawn over to Robin's."

------------------

Shawn was more than happy to go over to Robin's for the night. She let him put whatever he want on his pizza and let him watch pg-13 movies sometimes. Steve was aware of this, but always warned Robin that she couldn't come crying to him when he got an upset stomach or had nightmares.

Eddie came over just a few minutes after he saw Shawn off and together they put the finishing touches on the dinner Steve had started.

"So this is going to sound weird...", Steve began as they sat down to eat. "But, have we met before?"

Eddie swallowed his mouthful before grinning. "What a line. I'm already in your house, baby. You don't need to use cheesy pick up lines on me."

"I'm serious", Steve said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you think it might be possible?"

"I think I'd remember running into someone like you. Why do you ask?"

Steve picked at his food. "Sometimes you smell familiar. Like, I know I've said you smell safe, but it's like I've smelled it somewhere before."

Eddie swallowed. "...What did your ex smell like?", he ventured.

"Nothing like you", Steve replied quickly. "Even when he wasn't upset I...I just started associating his scent with bad things."

"Well, maybe you just had a very formative experience in a candle shop. They're getting really expressive with fragrances nowadays. Remember that one from a while back? The mountain lodge scent craze?"

"God, how could I forget?", Steve laughed as the conversation changed to candle scents, perfumes, and colognes, and how some brands seemed to be going a bit far trying to imitate certain smells.

After dinner, Eddie offered to help with the dishes so that Steve didn't have to worry about them later.

"You really didn't have to", he said as Eddie handed him a dish to dry.

"Can I be corny for a sec? I've kinda always imagined doing the dishes with someone special. Boring stuff like that."

Steve felt his heart stop and he grabbed Eddie's face to bring him in for a kiss. When they finished, Eddie started perusing the shelf in the living room and immediately found Shawn's baby book.

"Didn't realize you had such a soft spot for him", Steve teased.

"Oh I'm sure he was a cute baby. But I wanna see new parent Stevie", Eddie said, holding it up, asking permission.

Steve sat down on the couch, patting the space next to him. Eddie hopped on like an excited puppy and they started flipping through it. The first few pages showed the ultrasounds and Steve's growing belly.

"I think the weirdest craving I had was turkey sandwiches with crunchy peanut butter. But besides that, it was pretty normal."

"You can't say 'normal' after prefacing it with turkey and peanut butter sandwiches", Eddie said with a grimace.

Steve shrugged. "The only other thing I craved was broccoli for a whole month."

"That explains why Shawn shovels it down during lunch."

There were a couple of appearances by Billy, but Steve didn't talk about him much. It wasn't all bad of course. It rarely is. But when Billy got unpleasant it was really bad. Enough to sour most of the good memories they had made together. The only thing untainted by Billy was Shawn himself, innocent in it all.

Then they got to the day Shawn had been born and the first few were of his teeny wrinkled red face, swaddled up. But after turning the page, Eddie froze on the couch. In the center of the page was Steve lying on a hospital bed, Shawn in his arms. There was a person standing by the bed, arm under the newborn pup, helping Steve support him.

The photo cut off the person's upper body and head, but Eddie knew it was Billy standing there. Steve felt him stiffen up and looked at him confused.

"What's wrong?"

Eddie was gazing at him like he was seeing Steve for the first time. Steve's brow furrowed even more and he took a look at the picture again, wondering what it was. Sure his hair was a mess and his face was pretty red, sweaty, and swollen, but did he really look all that different?

Then he caught the arm helping to hold Shawn, caught the rings on the hand, most different but at least one that was undeniably the same. And if that wasn't enough, caught the tattoos that were visible on the arm.

The same arm that was wrapped around his shoulders right now.

------------------------

"Billy", Steve breathed into the phone, trying to pace himself. "Billy, my water broke. Please call me back. I'll be at Hawkins General Hospital."

Steve hung up and looked to his overnight bag sitting by the door. Even if Billy got his message, Steve wasn't very confident in him getting here on time to drive him to the hospital. And he was pretty sure most rideshares wouldn't want an omega in labor in their backseat. Steve was literally debating whether he should clean up the spill from his water breaking now or just leave it for later.

He wanted to make Billy clean it, the fucking asshole but he also didn't want an argument the moment they returned from the hospital. Mind made up, he leaned over with great difficulty to get the bag and then grabbed his keys.

Steve was never more grateful than now that he lived in a small town and was able to get to the hospital in less than 10 minutes. But it was a very long ten minutes in which he imagined every sort of car accident imaginable.

When he parked, he called Billy again and got his voicemail again. Billy had left the apartment about two hours ago, to do god knows what. He called again after checking in while he was still lucid. As his contractions got closer, he could feel that he was losing himself and his instincts were taking over.

An omega giving birth could be dangerous nowadays. In earlier times, when babies were born in the home, this wasn't much of a problem. An omega would be surrounded by family and familiar scents. But in the sterile, nearly scentless environment of a hospital, they had a tendency to lash out at the hands of strangers trying to help deliver the baby.

If the omega's partner was present, or someone else close to them, this made things go a lot more smoothly. But Steve had arrived completely alone. No one to speak for but himself and the pup inside of him. When asked if anyone was coming, he admitted to calling his alpha several times but not getting a reply.

The nurse stroked his sweaty forehead, giving him a pitying look.

"You poor thing. But you're going to have to start pushing soon. Your pup's about ready to meet the world."

Steve shook his head. "Can't. I can't. It's not time yet."

The doctor gave him an appraising look. "I'm afraid to say that it is, alpha or no. This is what happens when you get pupped up without a bite."

And that was a sore spot for Steve, who had asked for Billy's bite more than once. Even more when he found out he was pregnant. His eyes glassed over with tears from both the pain and the oncoming sensation that he had feared.

"Doctor, watch what you say. I think he's succumbing to rejection sickness", the nurse said, nose catching a hint of it through her mask.

What was worse than Steve snapping at the hands trying to assist would be him feeling too weak to even do anything.

The doctor cursed under her breath. "Nurse, go find a volunteer alpha. No need to make this more difficult than it needs to be."

The nurse scurried out, Steve couldn't tell how long she'd been gone but was deep in a flurry of sensations. Billy didn't want him, he never wanted him, not seriously. Not even to officially mate him. He didn't want this pup either. His baby was coming into the world unloved and it was Steve's fault for being such a failure and-

"Found someone", the nurse rushed in.

"'Someone'?", the doctor raised a brow at the man she brought in.

"He's not official but all the other volunteers are busy."

"This is highly unprofessional, you understand that?"

"I think losing a pup and possibly a patient would be even worse. Do you know what to do, sweetie?"

"Yeah", a third voice said.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them to clear but the tears kept coming and the pain was never ending. He felt a hand grab his and wanted to snap but the rumble of an alpha's voice got him to pause. It wasn't Billy, didn't smell like him at all, yet somehow that was better.

"You're doing great, beautiful." The alpha held his hand on one and stroked his hair with the other.

"The pup...", Steve whimpered as the doctor and nurse got to work between his legs.

"Doc's gonna help you out. Bet your pup's gonna be the cutest in the ward. But I think you gotta help push him out."

Steve was panting as he started to push. He had to do this. He owed it to his pup to try. He had been so excited from the moment the test showed positive. He couldn't give up now. He thought about the ten toes and ten fingers and their ruddy face and their wisps of hair and he couldn't wait anymore to see them for himself.

All through it, the alpha gave him words of encouragement, projected a comforting scent, and kept both hands on him, grounding him to the moment. With a big final push, tiny cries filled the room and Steve collapsed onto the bed.

He felt like he dizzy, to say the least and while his pup was cleaned up, he was given a heavy dose of painkillers. Finally, his baby was given to him, all swaddled up and there was that itty-bitty pink face. Steve immediately started to cry again, but this time in joy.

"Gorgeous baby, just like their dame."

"Thank you", Steve breathed out. He put his nose to his pup's forehead. He smelled just a bit of Steve but besides that was scentless. His inner omega longed for the scent of himself and his alpha to cover their babe, marking them as their own and protecting them. Unknowingly, he let out a cooing call and the alpha beside him answered it, reaching out to rub his wrist against the blanket.

"What are you gonna call him?"

"Shawn...", Steve had decided long ago. He let out a very long yawn, which his pup then mirrored.

The alpha stayed with them for at least an hour, covering them both in his scent, turning away respectfully when the nurse came to help Steve nurse for the first time. Steve had still been too out of it to appreciate it but had been grateful later. The alpha had to go soon after, and truly it was perfect timing.

Billy finally arrived about five minutes later, looking relieved at first to see Steve and the baby were fine, but then his nostrils flared when he smelled an unfamiliar alpha on what he deemed to be his omega and his pup. Steve had been tired to fight, just kept his eyes open so that Billy could said his piece before handing Shawn over and closing his eyes.

--------------------

"....That alpha was you", Steve whispered.

"And that omega was you", Eddie replied.

Part 6

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 170 }

always by your side.

choso kamo x fem.reader

warnings: blood mention

the sun was shining brightly when you and choso decided to go on a much needed date. whereas you were all smiles and sunshine, your boyfriend had an almost eerie gloom to him.

after sharing a light lunch at your favorite café, you simply wished to bask in your lover's presence while exploring the city together. as you tugged choso along, whispers from other people could be heard from all around you, making your boyfriend seem to further curl into himself upon witnessing such words.

"he's so pale, what is he, a corpse?"

"i feel bad for the girl... do you think we should see if she's okay?"

you could feel your annoyance mounting, glaring at those boys who wished to take you away from choso. wishing to comfort him, you squeeze his hand within yours, facing him with a kind smile on your face.

"cho, don't listen to them, okay? come on... you know you never once cared about what others thought about you, so don't let it bother you now."

the tiniest smile graces your lover's features, taking one of your hands before settling it on his pale cheek. "i know that but... it's just- i don't like upsetting or embarrassing you. in many ways, they're right, you deserve-"

not allowing him to finish such self-deprecating thoughts, you gently shush him while placing a finger on his parted lips. "i deserve you, and that's final."

choso's eyes widen for the briefest moment, mirroring the momentary shock he felt before narrowing once more, eyes now filled with complete and utter adoration for you. letting out a light chuckle, you watch as he leans down to press a kiss against your forehead.

"thank you, my love."

you hum, basking in the soft sensation of his kiss felt against your skin before taking his hand once more. while you continued to explore the city together, your eyes go wide upon seeing something that towers over you. you signal for choso to stop walking while pointing a finger up at the looming ferris wheel with its brightly colored lights seen flashing against the sunset.

"choso, come on, let's get on the ferris wheel! it'll be the perfect end to our date!"

choso hums and follows your gaze, giving you a nod. never one to ignore your wants and needs, he takes confident strides toward the ferris wheel and waits in line. with a wistful smile painting your features, you slowly begin to interlock your fingertips with choso, making sure that you held his hand in a tighter grip. your boyfriend returns your smile, and within what felt like mere seconds, it was finally your turn to ride the ferris wheel.

sharing a pod with choso, you rest your head on his shoulder while admiring the skies. the sun had already begun to set over the horizon, painting the skies in brilliant, twilight hues.

"i'm so happy, being able to witness such a beautiful sight with you."

you listen as choso hums in response, giving your hand another squeeze as you were filled with love for him. wishing to act on your emotions, you softly call out choso's name and capture his attention.

choso's eyes go wide when you gently framed at his face with your two hands before leaning closer to him. "i will always love you."

those were the final words that come from you when you finally press your lips against his in a sweet kiss. being perfectly slotted against his lips, you try to deepen the kiss, only to feel slightly dejected when he doesn't return your affectionate gesture, filling your heart with a sense of unease.

"back then, you didn't let me finish." an almost pained whisper was heard coming from choso, making you furrow your brow in response when he suddenly keeps your head still, finally returning your kiss.

but instead of tasting the faint taste of coffee from choso, there was an unknown... almost coppery taste that had come from his lips. filled with nausea, you shove yourself away from him, eyes going wide upon seeing choso's mouth filling with blood.

the thick, red liquid seem to be pouring from his eyes and mouth, making it seem as though your beloved was crying tears made from blood itself when he brokenly says to you-

"i was going to tell you that you deserved someone who was still alive."

your screams of agony and despair were all that you could hear---

waking up with a gasp, you found yourself suddenly in an upright position, still in bed as the blankets slide off your form.

your breathing was heavy, and you couldn't stop your heart from clenching so painfully in response. broken sobs wrack through your body, and your eyes remained unfocused as the tears kept falling from your eyes, further blinding you.

a tired voice calling out your name serves as a much needed reminder that you had been suffering from a nightmare; that he was still by your side and was currently bringing you into his embrace.

"cho...choso... it's... oh, it was awful."

you curl into your lover, feeling choso brush his slightly chapped lips against your temple while rubbing comforting circles around your back.

"what happened?" he whispers to you, still littering your face with his soft and lingering kisses. his methods of comforting you were working, and you felt your heart slowly calm down, ceasing its almost painful beats as you cling to the front of his shirt.

"you were dead... in my dreams... and when we kissed, y-you..."

the raw pain you felt in your nightmare was too much, rendering you speechless once more as choso let out a coo of your name.

"i'm sorry you had to experience such a potent nightmare, my love." with gentle movements, choso moves your face away from his chest, smiling down at you as your eyes met with his deep purple gaze. "but, i want you to know that i will never leave your side."

you could feel your tears continue its steady stream down your face when choso gently traces at your bottom lip, whispering your name once more before leaning forward to kiss you deeply. he tastes the saltiness of your tears and groans, threading his fingers through your hair while whispering to you,

"i'll always be by your side protecting you no matter what. now, let's get back to bed. i'll keep you in my arms for the rest of the night so that you can rest easy, how does that sound?"

with choso smiling down at you, you felt all of your anxieties and fear melt away. giving him an eager nod, you greedily press your frame against the front of choso's chest, hearing him letting out a content sigh before laying back in bed with you in his embrace.

as you buried your face within his chest, you could feel choso pressing several kisses against your hair while murmuring his complete and utter devotion to you. basking in his whispered promises of love and forevers, you felt your eyes slowly begin to grow heavier before shutting them completely...

now shielded from any bad dreams by the man who would always be by your side.

a.n. - hhhhh this is technically the first story i have written for choso, and i hoped it turned out well enough. i wanted to include different jjk characters in hopes of writing more jjk someday,,, but,,, writing for a new character is hard 😭 still, i hope this story was enjoyable enough!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[miasmaghoul]

Kinktober Day 1 - High Sex

Wow, I can't believe it's already October 1st! I can't WAIT to see what normal things this month holds. I certainly hope Swiss doesn't go absolutely insane in Australia and destroy us all!

(Look, just be thankful I'm trying. Huge shoutout to @kroas-adtam for putting together this year's prompts!)

Green is the Warmest Color

Rating: E Pairing: Aeon/Swiss Word Count: 2.2k Contains: stoned, sappy ghouls, shotgunning, cock warming, lazy sex, banter, body worship, the boys being Real Fucked Up and absolutely loving it

-----

“You’re staring,” Swiss lilts, eyes crinkling as he brings the smoldering end of their joint to his lips.

Aeon's sure he's right, but in fairness, how couldn’t he? Swiss is a vision, sitting pretty in his lap in a wide straddle with a hand planted on Aeon’s stomach. The setting sun throws every inch of the other ghoul into such sharp relief; everything from the chips in his curved horns and the strong line of his jaw, to the breadth of his shoulders and the slight softness of his stomach. From the swollen, stiff peaks of the nipples Aeon had spent ages teasing once they’d finally fallen back into bed, to the flushed length of Swiss’ cock where it sits heavy against Aeon’s pale belly. Dribbling sticky fluid into his happy trail with the occasional languid rock of those incredible hips. 

"'Course I am," he replies, loose and relaxed, "you're real nice to look at."

-----

Read below, or on AO3!

Lazy.

That’s how Aeon would say his day with Swiss has been. Lazy, but in the best way. 

He’d woken late, drenched in the early summer sunlight pouring through Swiss’ windows. Wrapped in a tangle of limbs and blankets that he hadn’t found himself particularly eager to escape. Swiss seemed to agree, when he eventually cracked an eye open to find Aeon staring at him with a sleepy, besotted smile on his face.

“Finally, jeez,” he’d teased, planting a kiss on Swiss’ bare shoulder and flashing him some fang. “Thought I was gonna have to watch you drool forever.”

“You love when I drool,” Swiss had countered, raspy and thick but still playful as ever. He’d threaded heavy fingers into Aeon’s mop of messy waves, scratching at the spot behind his ear that always makes his leg twitch.

“Maybe,” he’d purred, tipping his head into the touch, “but I think there’s better things for that mouth to be doing.”

Swiss hadn’t argued that point, a slow grin splitting his face as he hooked a finger under Aeon’s sharp chin. As he knocked their horns together and nuzzled his cheek. Brushing their lips together in the barest hint of what Aeon was asking for.

“You have eye boogers,” Swiss had informed him then, thumbing along his lashline with a crinkled nose, and Aeon hadn’t been able to hold back his laugh.

“And you have morning breath,” he’d chuckled, looping a long arm around Swiss’ shoulders. “Kiss me anyway.”

Swiss had, happily so, and to Aeon’s delight there was no urgency behind it. No rush, no invasive tongue, no gasping for breath. Just the scratch of Swiss’ stubble, the tickle of his mustache and the warmth of his mouth. A kiss they had both gotten lost in, drifting on nothing but the feel and taste of one another.

The rest of their day had been equally indulgent; a long, hot bath filled with more of those decadent kisses and wandering hands. Hours spent in their pajamas on the common room sofa, Aeon sitting between Swiss’ knees so the other ghoul could play with his hair. A late lunch at the lakeside, Swiss occasionally tossing a grape into Aeon’s mouth from the other side of the blanket they shared. An early evening stroll to the greenhouse spent talking about everything and nothing, their tails idly curling together along the way.

Aeon had busied himself visiting his favorite plants once they arrived, chatting with one of the lesser ghouls tending to the table of orchids. Admiring petals in all shades of purple, caressing stems and verdant leaves with gentle fingers while Swiss hunted down Mountain. It hadn’t taken him long - Swiss creeping up behind him a few minutes later, looping his arms around Aeon’s waist to nose behind his ear, asking if he was ready to head back. Aeon had hummed, but hadn’t made an effort to move. He’d leaned back into Swiss instead, fingers dancing along a bud that had yet to bloom. In no particular hurry to abandon the beauty laid out before him.

Then Swiss had held up a baggie of prerolls, had kissed his neck, and Aeon decided that stopping to smell the flowers could wait until tomorrow.

Besides, his current view is infinitely more enticing.

“You’re staring,” Swiss lilts, eyes crinkling as he brings the smoldering end of their joint to his lips.

Aeon's sure he's right, but in fairness, how couldn’t he? Swiss is a vision, sitting pretty in his lap in a wide straddle with a hand planted on Aeon’s stomach. The setting sun throws every inch of the other ghoul into such sharp relief; everything from the chips in his curved horns and the strong line of his jaw, to the breadth of his shoulders and the slight softness of his stomach. From the swollen, stiff peaks of the nipples Aeon had spent ages teasing once they’d finally fallen back into bed, to the flushed length of Swiss’ cock where it sits heavy against Aeon’s pale belly. Dribbling sticky fluid into his happy trail with the occasional languid rock of those incredible hips. 

"'Course I am," he replies, loose and relaxed, "you're real nice to look at."

Swiss smiles down at him, washed in warm light that perfectly matches his golden eyes. Eyes that are both blown dark and red rimmed, heavy in a way that makes Aeon throb. He knows Swiss feels it deep inside, can tell by the way his breath stutters and his lids droop. 

Aeon can't stop touching him, talented hands drifting from Swiss' knees to his chest and everywhere in between. Right now he has one on a strong thigh, thumb tracing ticklish half circles that make the muscle there jump. The other sits on Swiss' stomach, kneading gently at the little bit of pudge Swiss holds there. Aeon's obsessed with it always, but high as he is, the feel of it right now is simply exquisite.

"Easy there, kitten," Swiss sighs, his own hand gliding from Aeon's belly up towards his narrow chest. "Don't go bruising the goods." He rubs over a tight pink nipple with a slow thumb and Aeon groans.

"Can't help it," he replies, offering up a stoned smirk. "You're just so…"

Aeon trails off into a sound of faux frustration, grabbing at Swiss' tummy with both hands, digging bony fingers into soft flesh. Swiss laughs, a rich, warm sound that melts into a pleasured moan when Aeon twitches inside him. Swiss moves his hips in a slow circle and they both hiss with it. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," Aeon murmurs, tongue flicking out wet his lips, and Swiss’ only response is a rusty purr.

He’s been sitting like this for a while now, keeping Aeon’s dick nice and warm while they finish off their treat from Mountain. A comforting weight that perfectly complements the fuzziness in his skull and the floatiness of his limbs. Aeon has no complaints about the fact that Swiss hasn't so much as bounced on him, neither of them in any rush to do more than enjoy the slow, luxurious grind. 

Aeon somehow manages to pry his hands from Swiss' belly, settling them on his hips instead and encouraging him to circle them again. Swiss clamps down around him and it sends a wave of warmth through his pelvis so intense that Aeon shudders. Swiss hums his amusement around the joint, sucking down the last of it in one long pull. It's far too much at once, his broad chest puffed up to full capacity by the time he's done, but then Swiss is looking at him with a glimmer on those gorgeous eyes and Aeon really can’t be bothered to worry.

Smoke's already curling from his nostrils when Swiss leans down, dropping the roach into his ashtray before getting both hands on Aeon's shoulders. Settling his weight onto his slight chest and pressing their foreheads together. Aeon's arms snake around him in an instant, and then Swiss' mouth is on his and Aeon's world becomes nothing but scratchy stubble, soft lips and herbal smoke.

He drinks down all he can, licking it from Swiss' mouth and filling his lungs with the sweetest kind of poison. Swiss' tongue against his is heavenly, warm and wet and perfect to suck on when he's too out of breath to continue the kiss. Aeon exhales slowly through his nose while they soak in it, Swiss' nose rubbing against his and his velvety walls quivering in the most delicious way. 

It's a challenge to convince his eyes to open once he's done, but somehow Aeon manages. Cracks lavender eyes no doubt redder than his flushed cheeks. Cheeks that go two shades darker when Aeon finds the other ghoul already watching him with a gentle warmth in his gaze. 

"Now who's starin'?" Aeon teases, voice honey thick, claws trailing over Swiss' back in nonsense patterns. Oh he is very fucked up.

"Is it me?" 

Well, at least Swiss is too.

"'S okay," Aeon assures him, as though Swiss would ever think staring was a problem. "I like when you look at me like that."

"Hmm?" Swiss cocks his head, squeezing at his shoulders. "Like what, starshine?" 

Aeon's lips curl into a smile, one he offers up in a quick peck to Swiss' cheek.

"Like you love me." 

He says it with such ease that it can't be anything but the truth, and despite the glazed look in his eye Aeon can tell that Swiss hears it too. He feels Swiss' cock throb where it's trapped between them, and Aeon hopes that the sticky spot on his stomach has grown larger. 

"Maybe I do." Swiss sounds so goofy, so pleased. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Aeon offers a shrug, looping one arm around Swiss' waist while the other travels south. Coasts over the curve of the other ghoul's ass - Aeon grabs a nice handful, tugs at Swiss' hole a little just to hear him gasp - before slipping over his hip. Fingertips wiggling into the space between their overwarm bodies. 

"Dunno," he answers, his casual tone a stark contrast to the way his greedy fingers worm their way closer to their prIze. "Could make you cum, I guess." 

Aeon finds the slick head of Swiss' cock and sneaks two fingers between it and his own stomach. Massages the frenulum the way he knows Swiss' likes best. He's rewarded with a deep, dark moan, one that sinks into his skin like a tangible thing. 

"Guess so," Swiss says, just a touch more breathless than he was a minute ago. "If you wanted."

Oh, Aeon definitely wants. Stoned as he is, that much is still obvious. He hums, catching the larger ghoul in a kiss that leaves him breathing heavier too.

"Sit up for me," he speaks against Swiss' lips, half into his mustache. "Wanna see you."

Swiss complies with absolutely no urgency, unhurried in the way he pushes himself upright. Relinquishes his grip on Aeon's shoulders to stretch those long arms over his head with a low groan. Aeon could watch him do this for days - could study every line and curve of the other ghoul's body for the rest of his existence and still want more. His admiring gaze travels from the tips of Swiss' fingers, down his arms, his chest, his stomach. When it settles on the swollen length of his cock, flushed dark where it's caged in pale fingers, Aeon can't help the way his own pulses.

Swiss must be so slick inside by now. Aeon can’t help but wonder, if he pulled out right now, if the mess of pre he’s been leaking for the better part of the past half hour would drip right down Swiss’ balls.

Swiss finishes his stretch with a show, running his own large hands down his torso with another roll of his hips, and Aeon sucks air through his teeth. Swiss gives him a devilish grin, hands coming to rest on Aeon's pecs, rosy little nipples pebbled under rough palms. Swiss kneads at him then, but Aeon's the one that purrs. 

"Didn’t you say no bruisin' the goods?" Aeon barely recognizes his own voice for how slurred it is.

"I'm exempt," Swiss tells him, happily pawing at him while his cock throbs in Aeon's grip. Aeon snorts, free hand moving to stroke Swiss' thigh.

"'S'at so?"

"Uh huh," Swiss confirms, catching Aeon's nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He gives them a nice tweak and Aeon yips, an embarrassing little sound that sends a flash of heat through him.

"What a surprise," he tries to deadpan, but the giddiness supplied by the weed makes it come out a bit silly. Swiss sticks out his tongue, and Aeon bites at the air as though he could reach it. 

"What wa'zat about makin' me cum?" 

Lucifer, Swiss sounds good when he's high. Aeon hums like he’s considering the concept, adjusting his hold on Swiss' twitching length. Less of a grip, more of a flat palm pressing it to the finely muscled plane of his stomach. Swiss gasps when he does, rutting forward on instinct and spitting another blurt of pre by Aeon's navel.

"Think you have everything you need to make that happen," Aeon croons, tongue poking out between his fangs. "Go ahead, I'm not stoppin' you."

Swiss groans deep in his chest when his brain processes the words, and then he's grinding again. Hips working in achingly slow rocks and rounds, each one designed to put Aeon's cock exactly where he wants it. Aeon adores the way Swiss' brow creases every time he hits an extra good spot, a beautiful sight that goes straight to his balls. 

"Gonna take a while like this," Swiss huffs, despite the way Aeon can already feel him starting to flutter inside. Not that that’s a problem, there’s already heat starting to coil low in his gut with every move Swiss makes.  

"'S'okay," he coos, the hand on Swiss’ thigh wandering up to nestle in his chest hair. “Jus’ promise you won’t stop if I blow first."

Swiss gurgles, spurts more pre, and Aeon’s content to lose himself in the wet sound of Swiss taking what he needs. There’s nothing he’d rather hear.

[thedroneranger]

Doggone It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Jake convinces Mrs. Seresin she needs a furry companion.

Note: I needed a serotonin hit, and dogs make me happy. This piece is an imagine in the To-Do List collection.

Warnings: So fluffy you might die, disabled dogs, inaccuracies around how military working dog adoptions work

Word count: 1.1k

Jake was nervous. Although he thought he was hiding it well, he wasn’t. She knew. She always knew. No one read Jake better than she could. Of course, he found it particularly annoying. Especially if he were planning any sort of surprise.

Pretending to be none the wiser, she sipped her latte and hummed along to the music. The wind siphoning through the cracked passenger window, streaming through her hair felt wonderful. Sun was hitting her face as she stared through her aviators at the passing scenery.

All of Jake’s tells were on display: thumbs thrumming on the steering wheel, knee jumping nervously and he wasn’t serenading her to their shared playlist, but instead mumbling to himself under his breath. 

Finally, he broke the low lull of the music. “We’re headed to base.”

“I know.” She turned from the window to look at him as he shot her a quick glance before putting his eyes back on the road. She continued to watch his profile, waiting for him to elaborate further. 

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding left his body. “We have an appointment,” he added. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth for a second.

“An appointment?” She prodded, taking another sip of her latte.

“Yes, an appointment. You’ll see when we get there,” Jake finished. Her mind raced as she tried to imagine what would require both their presence on base. Her ID card wasn’t up for renewal. Her vehicle tags were up to date.

Once the truck was parked, Jake came around to the front of the vehicle, hand ready for her to take. They exchanged smiles as their fingers interlaced. Inside the building, nothing appeared familiar as they strode past sterile doors, and the overhead lights glimmered off the well-waxed beige tile.

At the end of the nondescript hallway, Jake pushed open one of the double doors to reveal a gymnasium dotted with dogs and handlers. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You cannot be serious, Jake!” She turned to look at him. 

His expression was guilty yet hopeful. “Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. We’re here to see which dogs are matches for us.” Her mouth hung open for a few seconds but nothing came out.

For months, she and Jake had been going back and forth about getting a dog. Given the uptick in the duration and frequency of his deployments and tours, he wanted her to have a protective companion around when he wasn’t. Plus, he couldn’t always rely on his friends—their assignments were as sporadic as his.

First, Jake looked at breeders, thinking a purebred puppy would be perfect. Although the idea of a pudgy puppy cuddled in her lap with velvet fur, premature wrinkles and unmistakable breath made her melt, she knew they had to adopt. So Jake changed his attack, sending her adoption events from rescues throughout the county. 

One day, he was on his way to the mess hall for lunch when a flier on the hallway bulletin board caught his eye. A smile curled his lips as he read the details for an upcoming military working dog adoption event.

He captured the information through the posted QR code and continued on to the lunch room. His squadron buddies ribbed him while he filled out the digital forms to ensure they got on the list as soon as possible. 

Jake remembered the day he got the approval email. He’d been incessantly checking. It also took all his willpower not to tell her. So often she did things for him that he really wanted to do this for her.

“Lieutenant Seresin? Mrs. Seresin?” A woman dressed in fatigues addressed them with a warm smile. They nodded in unison and each shook her hand. After introducing herself, she offered them beverages and then took the pair to a small sitting area. Then, she walked through how their application was vetted and they were matched.

“You’re perfect candidates for any of the dogs here,” the woman commended them. They exchanged affectionate looks as Jake slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it. “But there’s a specific dog we think is the best fit for you. Would you like to meet him?”

Jake was out of his chair before the word “yes” left his lips. The soldier smiled at his giddiness and waited for her to also stand. Once all three of them were on their feet, she guided them around the perimeter of the room until they reached another soldier, standing with a brindle Belgian Malinois. “Say hello to Ruck.” She motioned toward the dog. 

Jake listened so well to her list of must-haves that they were here, standing in front of a retired military dog in need of a home. She looked at Jake with a genuine smile. He thought his heart might stop. She looked so happy, which made him so happy. 

“May I?” She looked at the handler for permission to pet the dog.

“Please!” He looked at Ruck, giving a wordless command. Looking back at her, the handler offered a couple pointers for a successful first impression. Jake listened but watched his wife as she absorbed everything. 

Once briefed, she knelt to Ruck’s level and presented the back of her hand to him. Curiously, he nosed it, eventually nuzzling her palm. She smiled as she began to scratch his jaw, and then eventually behind his ears.

While Ruck warmed up to her, they learned he was a six-year-old that had served two tours in the Middle East and has been to almost all 50 states. The timing could not have been more perfect. As the handler finished with Ruck’s list of accolades, the dog excitedly popped up, rushing forward into her arms, revealing he was short a hindleg. 

Both she and Jake couldn’t help but smile, and the soldiers sighed in deep relief. Usually a hard sell, the pair was unfazed.

Heck, Jake felt his heart melt a little more. 

After a couple hours of socialization, Jake managed to convince the program manager to give a special release so Ruck could leave with them. Usually, they coordinated a home drop-off later, but Ruck had really taken to them. 

While they were outside, practicing commands and playing fetch, the handler came toward her only to be warned by Ruck not to come any closer. A smile crept across her face as she looked at the dog and rewarded him with a pat on the head. The handler and program manager were just as pleased.

On the ride home, Jake had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road as she and Ruck sat in the backseat. Ruck laid across the seat with his head in her lap as she stroked between his ears.

She caught Jake staring at her in the rearview mirror and pouted her lips in his direction. He cocked his cheek as though her kiss landed there and winked at her. 

Jake’s heart was so full, he thought he might burst.

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[yanderenightmare]

NSFW ABC's

Bakugou Katsuki x darling

TW: NSFW

part J, K & L

Junk

what’s their private look/feel like?

He’s thick and heavy-hung. Ripped the same way the rest of him is – muscular – with fat veins like cables pumping power. High-strung with a sturdy spine, lifting it up like a cannon ready to fire. A plump tip with a deep slit shaping it where beads of white pill – like fine pearls running down the length of it into the ash-blonde wisp bearding the beast – growing lightly upward in a happy trail towards his navel – upon finely cut muscles, steering clear of his larger scars, and spreading even further upon his pelvis to his chest in short circular curls – contrasting the tan sand color of his skin the same way the stubble on his chin grows – scratching you every time he gives you a kiss.

Kinks

what turns them on?

Katsuki's kink is consent – hearing you tell him to go faster or harder or deeper – feeling you claw your nails into his skin while your legs pull him closer, wrapped tightly in a lock around his torso – how your own hips move impatiently against his – desperately begging for more of him.

He also likes hearing you tell him to be gentle, to go slower, to make his digs longer – how you moan sweetly for him and caress his body with gentle touches, all smoothly in soft small hands – how your lips press against his neck and blow on his ear – when in the absence of skin harshly smacking skin the two of you hear the schlick all to well as you mold into the other’s embrace.

Really – just anytime you ask for anything – when you show him you want him. When you ask to ride him and when you tell him to take over. When you tell him to kiss you and when you’re too caught up in it to understand what or how to ask so you instead just say his name with a moan.

Location

where do they like doing it?

Katsuki likes going at it anywhere at home in the comfort of your shared house – with the exception of his car if he’s feeling impatient – his sofa, his kitchen counter, his dining table, his tub, his shower, his windows, his home-office desk, his bed, on a pile of his dirty laundry. 

It’s in those intimate places that he can really let loose, leave the worries of the world outside and keep his focus on you and all those innermost personal ways he wants to ingrain you in his life – root you in his privacy – tattoo you into his skin.

Though there have been times when you’ve visited him at his hero agency – bringing lunch – where he’s been too riled up and tattered from huge wasteful meetings with other pro heroes who’s all had their head’s too far up their asses to come to any agreement regarding anything – when seeing you has been such a blessing that he just hasn’t been able to keep himself from grabbing at you – desperate for comfort and some consolation in burying his frustrations deep inside your tight cunt.

Where due to his occasional raging fits and his own personal need for privacy – his office is both soundproof and fitted with airtight blinds – therefore, nothing to keep him from making you scream when he takes you hard against his desk.

And aside from the office, there have been times you’ve stayed with his parents where he’s not been shy of getting frisky with you in his childhood bedroom.

So, in correction, maybe it’s closer to anywhere he feels at home – and not restricted to the house.

tip-jar:Kofi

[eurydicees]

🎃Trick or Treat 👻

bokuaka / on the precipice of telling a great truth

Kenma scoffs, a kind of bored, skeptical noise. “You make him lunches every day. And then he takes them to work. Every day.”  

“Not every day,” Akaashi says, unbothered. He’s busy packing rice into a bento box. “Just most days. Besides, it’s not that weird. We’re roommates and I do most of the cooking between us, so it’s not unreasonable for me to pack leftovers for him.” 

“You have a standing weekly coffee date on your Monday lunch break,” Kenma says. 

Akaashi shrugs. “He just likes making sure I’m taking proper breaks at work. He’s a good friend.” 

“You’re constantly texting or calling or talking in some way, despite seeing each other all the time. Because you have been living together for eight years, despite both of you being financially stable adults who could move out and live alone at any time.” 

“Neither of us like living alone,” Akaashi points out. He sets the cover on the box and turns to face where Kenma is sitting at the kitchen island behind him. “Also, this is a convenient living location for both of us. We’ve just never needed to suggest moving out when this works so well. We’re very compatible as roommates.” 

Kenma makes that same frustrated, exhausted noise. “You’re compatible because you’re in love with each other, Keiji. It’s been over a decade of you and him pining and I am tired of it.” 

Akaashi stares at him blankly. “He’s not in love with me.” 

“He has been obsessed with you since high school,” Kenma says. He rubs his palm over his face, dragging it over his eyes and trying to compose himself. “Do you know how many times I’ve been with Kuroo and minding my own business and Bokuto has interrupted to gush about whatever you did that day? I’ve probably talked to Boktuo about you more than I have talked to Bokuto about literally everything else he talks nonsense about.” 

Akaashi has stilled where he stands, his guarded, unsure expression freezing. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because,” Kenma says, trying for patience but just coming off as tired, “yesterday you told him you were going on a date with some guy—” 

“Yeah,” Akaashi snaps, cutting him off. His hands are trembling and he curls them into fists to stop the shaking, to try to grasp some semblance of control of his heartbeat. He says, in a choking rush, “I’m going on a date because I am trying to move on, Kenma. I am trying to get the fuck over this—this stupid crush because—because he does not love me back and I am tired of pining for someone who doesn’t care.  And—and where fuck has this been for the past five years?” 

Kenma sighs, slow and measured. “He’s been keeping it quiet for the same reasons you have been. He’s scared you’ll reject him. And while everyone else knows that you wouldn’t, he doesn’t get that. And going on a date with your coworker’s friend of a friend is not going to make either of you happy.” 

Akaashi licks his lips, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “He’s not in love with me. He can’t be. If he is—if—if he is, he should have told me.” 

“He should have told you.” Kenma rolls his eyes. “You mean, just like you should have told him?” 

“It’s different,” Akaashi protests, but it’s weak. 

Kenma gives him another heavy sigh. “It’s not different. You both just need to talk to each other.” 

“I—” Akaashi swallows, closing his eyes. 

When he opens them, it feels a little like he’s on the brink of something either terrible or beautiful, dancing on the cliff’s edge of maybe. If Kenma is right—then— 

He ignores the precipice and says, firmly, “Telling him would change everything, and I can’t do that. What we have is too important. And honestly this isn’t really any of your business—” 

Kenma snorts. “This became my business the moment he started sulking in my apartment about you going on a date and leaving him forever. He has been doing this for the past eighteen hours. And I am tired of it.” 

“I thought he just had plans last night to go out with Kuroo,” Akaashi says numbly, “and he ended up staying the night.”

“Yes,” Kenma agrees. “They went out and got drunk about it and then came back and he sulked. And then they sobered up, and he continued to sulk.” 

Akaashi stares at him. His breaths are starting to come shallow and uneven as the world rearranges itself. “Is he okay?” 

“He’d be better if you told him you love him,” Kenma says dryly. Then he sighs. “I get why you don’t want to, Keiji, I really do get it. But—just think about it. He loves you. It’s in everything he does. If it’s reciprocated—which I know it is—then maybe he deserves to know that.” 

“Oh,” Akaashi murmurs. He looks down at the marble countertop, tracing the patterns with his eyes. It’s grounding, in a way. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Kenma says. He stands up, the kitchen stool scraping against the floor. “I’m going to go back home now and try to actually sleep. But think about it, okay?” 

Akaashi exhales, closing his eyes. “I—okay. I’ll think about it.”